


1983

by elfiebakers



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Elio Perlman, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Gay Sex, Italy, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut, Top Oliver
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:54:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 51,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23025874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfiebakers/pseuds/elfiebakers
Summary: Elio and Oliver have not so secretly tiptoed around their budding relationship. This work pulls greatly from the events exploring them farther and in more erotic detail.
Relationships: Oliver & Elio Perlman, Oliver/Elio Perlman
Comments: 103
Kudos: 281





	1. I'm nervous, you know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So this chapter starts at the villa just as ELio and Oliver are about to embark on a journey of letting the other one in. Okay that was putting it nicely haha. It's basically just six pages of uncensored smut, where the film "left of" when they first slept together :) well so I hope you enjoy this because I'm very nervous about it. Anyway just one warning before we start: I mention the use of vaseline in the erotic scenes - please don't do that, it's not very healthy for you (not that you would pull inspiration from this in real life but just saying haha) But from my research (yes I did some!) it's what they used widely in the 80's instead of lube so yeah that's that :D happy reading!  
> To experience this chapter at its maximum potential play the instrumental version of Visions of Gideon by Sufjan Stevens :)

“Yeah, I’m nervous.” I said. Because I wanted him to know. Because he was the only one I could tell. _Because he was the only one that mattered_. Oliver touched my face to make me look at him. And as nervously as that sentence came out I walked into his room, my room. I could hear my blood in my ears and my heart thumping, I prayed nobody else heard it. I was afraid to make a sound as not to wake anyone up or make them suspicious. I walked those boards like a mine field, carefully to avoid explosion. Because old villas are kind of like that. Like a mine field, one wrong step and the floor board explodes, the sound ricocheting of the walls and the halls carrying it to the ones that are not supposed to know.

I walked in first, Oliver following close behind. His presence burning on my back like the Italian sun scorching our bodies every day of the holidays.

“I like what you’ve done with the place. It’s nice.” Those were the first words that came into mind. In fact I was stalling. Why? Because I was shaking and I didn’t want him to know, but I wanted him to hold me anyway. What was I supposed to do? How was this gonna go down? Will I like it? Will he like it? Will he like me?

Oliver was about to put out his cigarette, but I was so giddy I took it from him before he could finish. I needed a little taste of him in my mouth and I needed to calm down. The cigarette was perfect in both aspects. It bought me time. I didn’t know what to do when he got closer. I guess I finally understood what Icarus felt flying too close to the sun. It was blistering, but you couldn’t help but gravitate towards it. And then he died. But I won’t, if anything I would come alive at his touch. How do I kiss him? What if he pulls away again and my chest will get tight and my nose is going to bleed? I twisted and I turned on the inside before laying my head on his shoulder and gently grazing my teeth over it. What are you doing? He chuckled. I couldn’t stand this. I was so close to him yet I felt so far away. _Just kiss me already, will you?_

“You okay?” he asked. Am I? Am I okay? I felt skittish. I wanted to crawl out of my skin because it suddenly felt too small for me. I felt too close to him, I needed distance, but after stepping away I couldn’t stand the space between us again.

“Me okay.”

I need him closer again. And being in his arms was a good place to start, but I needed to get even closer. I needed to close that void between us like my life depended on it, so not even air would be between our bodies. His lips brushed over the column of my throat and I needed him nearer. I wanted to feel him, everywhere, with an urgency I didn’t realize I could even feel. 

“Can I kiss you?” Oliver inquired.

“Yes, please.”

I felt like the weight of the world was lifted off of my shoulders and I could breathe again for the first time since we last kissed. I needed his lips on mine as soon as possible. Because I felt like if I didn’t I’d die. But Oliver being Oliver challenged me, like he always did. Kissing my face and pecking my neck, always leaving me hungry for more. For more kisses, more closeness, more him. He pulled away from my embrace and went to close the door but I didn’t let him. It just wasn’t enough for me. I didn’t get enough of him yet and I’m not sure if I ever will. But he defied me and I let go. The door banged loud and I cursed in every language I could speak, but not out loud. I didn’t wanna cause any more racket than we already had. He giggled at my reaction. And so we waited. But nobody came looking for the source. We were save. Everything about tonight was in our favour. In that waiting he kicked of his shoes. And I couldn’t help myself wanting to feel that extra bit ofnaked skin he presented me with. Slowly my foot slid over the space between us and found his.

“What are you doing?” he chuckled, that sound reverberating off the walls, making me shiver at its impact. The truth was I had no idea. I just needed to sense him at least just a little bit, such a tiny bit, that if somebody came lurking still, I could easily pull away.

“Nothing.” I almost slurred. And a infinitesimal part of me thinks he understood in that moment as he covered my foot with his. The want was undeniable and these slow, minimal gestures weren’t doing it.

“Does this make you happy?” he questioned again. This was so new, so exhilarating I couldn’t do anything else but nod. Yes, Oliver, you here, with me makes me happy. Touching you, however little that might be makes me the happiest person alive. And the most scared.

“You’re not gonna get a nosebleed on me, are you?” he smiled in my direction. He just knew how to irk my nerve. It was a special talent of his. Maybe that’s what made me so drawn to him.

“I’m not gonna get…” I replied. God I really couldn’t stand this. I needed him in anyway I could have him. And at first I almost tackled him because he just made me angry making fun of me like that, but once he put his hands on my back and I felt their warmth the anger was gone, subsided. I knew we were safe. Everyone was asleep. And I couldn’t take this, his teasing, the waiting any longer.

I threw my leg around his lap and lowered myself until I was straddling him. Even just this made me lose my mind. Send me into overdrive, faster and stronger than anything I did today with Marzia. And yes my high with Marzia felt amazing, but I was 17 and I liked stuff being done to my dick. But she was the last person I wanted to think about right now.My hands in his hair, his hands on me and I couldn’t get enough. I needed to sense him with all of my sense, I needed to breathe in his scent so deep within me that it could never leave. And then he finally put his lips on mine, kissing me so passionately I thought I might come just then and there. But I wanted, I needed more. There was no time to be wasted, we’ve wasted enough with this nonsense. And if I couldn’t get out of my too small skin I at least needed to get out of my clothes and feel his skin on mine, properly.

“Off, off, off, off, off….” the words almost echoed in the room as I was pulling my T-shirt over my head from behind. And once it was finally off, his hands found me again and his lips brushed my belly, sending jolts of excitement down my spine. These jeans were killing me, suffocating me I needed them off as well and fast.And I was hungry to wish his clothes away as well when I attacked his green shirt.

“Just pull it.” he breathed out, but he was faster to get it off himself as I laid myself on the bed fighting with my jeans still.

“Or I’ll pull it.” he added in a whirlwind of actions. This time it was him straddling me and then kissing my stomach to make me lay down again. I could see it in his eyes he wanted this as much as I did, pupils dilated, cheeks flushed.

And he looked so beautiful like this. Oliver illuminated by the moonlight his hair a mess thanks to me, on top of me, wrestling with his belt and shorts taking them off. I couldn’t help but stare at him, I wanted this image tattooed to the inside of my eyelids forever. Because nothing, no art, no music, nothing would ever come close to this, to him. He looked divine.

He sat to the side of me and finally pulled my jeans and my boxers off in one swift movement. I wasted no time in getting on all fours as he discarded of the rest of my attire. I reminded me of the time when I put his swimsuit on my face just a few short weeks ago, because I just needed something to fuel my before-bed fantasies. I’ve imagined this moment in my head for a few weeks now.But even my imagination couldn’t make it this perfect. He ran a hand over my bum, making goosebumps rise all over my skin.

“Someone’s eager.” he chuckled again in his usual manner. I felt like I was being scolded for not doing this the right way, even though I wasn’t.

“Come here.” he said as he sat at the edge of the bed with his feet on the ground. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed his ear rather sloppily. Oliver took my hand and led me to stand in front of him, my back to the window, the cold night air coming in from the outside was well appreciated, because I was burning.

He kissed my stomach again, sliding his hands from the small of my back down, this time kneading my arse. Then he moved on to my cock. I threw my head back with a loud exhale, steadying myself with my hands on his strong shoulders. I had to fight everything in me not to let go this fast. Because this was better than anything I’ve ever experienced, better than any orgasm I’ve ever had and I never wanted it to stop. I thought he could sense I was close, he stopped the obscure things he was doing with his tongue and let go with a loud pop, what a tease.

“Merde.” I muttered under my breath. I could see the smile on his face, this was the exact reaction he was hoping for. He was good at this and he knew it. And bringing me this close, doing this to me made him happy. I lowered myself, tangling my fingers into his hair once more bringing him close to me, deepening the kiss and when he wanted more I pulled away teasing the tip of his tongue with mine or biting his lower lip. He pulled me on top of himself and held me close kissing me like there was no tomorrow, like he was parched in the desert and I was the last drip of water he needed to survive. He devoured me and I reciprocated. I could feel his erection on my thigh and his thigh on mine, heaven I thought.

I sat up on my heels before attacking his lips again, then kissing down his throat and his chest and stomach until I reached his throbbing length and tried to mimic what he had done just a few moments earlier. I might not be as experienced as he is in this department but the huffs and puffs and rise and fall of his broad chest assured me I was not totally hopeless. He was squirming, arching his back and scrambling for a hold of my hair. I followed his lead and let go with a loud pop and an innocent stare into his eyes as I sat back on my heels. He giggled shaking his head in disbelief. His fingers let go of my hair and caressed my face until his thumb ran over my bottom lip. I kissed its pad gently before once again grazing him with my teeth. Oliver was quick to react sitting up and making me lay down, kissing my mouth, holding me by the cheeks.

“Are you ready to do this?” he had to make sure again. He made me feel so safe that even when I wasn’t, because I don’t think you ever truly are, I nodded again. I wanted it too much, I wanted him too much and it felt right. And maybe that meant I was ready after all.

“Okay.” he said and wetted his lips even though he didn’t need to because they were still glazed with my saliva. He directed me to lay my head down on one of the pillows and put the other one underneath my pelvis.

“Comfortable?” he smiled and ran his huge hand through my hair. I nodded, my mouth was dry, my heart was about to burst out of my chest, I couldn’t speak. “Good. We need you comfortable to get you prepared.” he said as he reached under the bed and pulled up a small tub of Vaseline. I wouldn’t have thought of that and any sort of preparation as well.

“Pull your knees up to your chest.” he commanded and I did as I was told. I could see him swallow hard as he rubbed the vaseline over his fingers. Was he not sure he wanted to do this? Was he scared he was going to hurt me? Or was he just as nervous as I was and this was the first time he showed it? Even nervousness suited him.

“Good.” he said again as he put one hand on the side of my right arse cheek.

“Say stop if you need to.” Oliver whispered. I nodded.

At first he circled my entrance with his slick Vaseline coated finger. It made me shiver, it felt so good. I didn’t even know I was this sensitive down there until now. I let out a shaky breath and suddenly his pointer finger’s first knuckle was inside of me. And it was a weird feeling. Like I wanted to get it out instinctively, but also wanted it deeper at the same time. I let out a shy moan as it happened and he needed to shush me, even though I knew he didn’t want to. He let me adjust to the sensation before he continued.

“Squeeze.” he commanded again and I did. I didn’t even know I could work my muscles in this way. And it was very obvious he knew what he was doing. “Release.” his voice sweet as honey. And as I did it his long finger was all up and inside me. I grunted I wanted to be watching him, but my eyes closed with a mind of their own. I wanted to experience this sensation to its full potential, touch, smell, sight everything. It felt too good to fight my eyes open so I settled just for the two. At first his finger circled around making jolts rush from there to the tip of my cock so fiercely I was surprised I didn’t come right away. Why haven’t I ever tried this before by myself? And then it was going in and out, slowly and curling inside of me making me squirm and profanities dribble out of my mouth as quietly as I could manage.

“How does it feel?” Oliver intercepted my train of though. “Good.” I half breathed out. “Good huh?” and even when I wasn’t looking I could hear the smile creeping into his tone. “Uhm.” I exhaled again. “Ready for a bit more?” he asked.

I knew I needed more, more friction, more of him. So I nodded again and as I did he pulled the finger out. And a small part of me was relieved, but a bigger part of me whimpered at the loss of contact and my eyelids flew open once more. Oliver waited until I calmed down and reassumed my position before going in with two of his fingers. I didn’t really understand why he asked me to say stop if I needed to. Because that one finger felt like heaven.

Two of his finger though, were a bit of a different story. The pain their entree caused was twisting my face every which way and I was growling and grunting and cussing for it to subside. He let me adjust to them again and it took a bit longer and even though the pain didn’t go away it dulled down to a point where I wanted more still. This time it took two tries to get them fully inside. And through it and my grunting and cursing, Oliver was rubbing my side to soothe me, to make the pain go away. He even kissed the inside of my ankle to make me calm down. And after they were drowning inside of me, he circled them and curled them finding that sweet spot again, teasing it to make my cock twitch between my legs. This was the single most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced and he hasn’t even touched my cock yet.

And then came three. And they set my bottom on fire. The friction, the stretch was all beginning to be a little too much. I was breathing heavily when he tried to get the first knuckles in. So much so that Oliver had to stop and just caress my side while whispering “Relax.” into my ear rather gently. He asked multiple times if I wanted to continue and I did. But he had to kiss my pain away and brush his finger through my hair until I calmed down and we could carry on. As he put his hand back to work my eyebrows were laced in a frown and my face scrunched with pain that would eventually go away, I knew it would. And the sounds escaping my mouth were outright obscene at this point. Oliver’s rubbing my side and kissing my knees and ankles wasn’t enough to make the pain dwindle anymore. So he settled on giving me something else to think about by rubbing his hand up and down my length and it took every last drop of my self-control not to finish. But the promise of him inside me kept me above water still. Just like before the pain turned into pleasure soon enough and my brows slackened and my moans got louder, which he had to stifle with his ownmouth so I wouldn’t wake up the rest of the tenants of the villa. I could feel a shudder, the good kind, go through his body as he swallowed my wails deep inside him. I couldn’t stand not feeling the muscles in his back move as his hand was slowly drilling in and out of me, the light dampness of his skin. I let go of one of my legs and instead dug my dull fingernails into his shoulder blade, steadying my leg by my heel boring into the small of his back.

“Oliver.” I breathed out, my voice laced with sex. “I want you.” I voiced what was on my mind.

He looked me in the eyes and nodded. I knew it was on his mind too, he just didn’t want to push me. But the fast movement of his hand withdrawing and scurrying for the tub of vaseline only showed me how much he indeed wanted this. He never broke eye contact. Not as he opened the box, not as he slathered himself with it. And I would always remember and probably revisit. Revisit the touch of his fingers on my forehead, the caress of them down my cheek and onto my bottom lip and those eyes watching me all throughout. I would remember the texture of the skin on his back, the slight protrusion of his shoulder blades and the way his strong muscles flexed and relaxed under my hands as he moved. I would often think of the slight stickiness of his skin on this hot summer night and how his chest felt against mine rising and falling deeply. And I would remember the curve of his lips and how it fit so perfectly with mine. I would remember the perfect dip of his spine at his waist and his strong arms embracing me all night.

“Say stop if you need to.” he reminded me again. But I wouldn’t. I longed for this too much to not let it happen. I could do this. And I would remember this:

The tip of his hard member pushing against my bottom, the heat of it, begging me to relax and let him enter. The pain that shot up my body when he first did, like being torn apart. The grunt that escaped my lips from somewhere deep within me, the rise of my chest as the ache resonated through my body. Stop, stop, stop, I was screaming. And when he did - please don’t. He kissed my face, my mouth, my ears, my throat, whispered for me to calm down until I once again became serene in his arms. So we tried again. This time I was already braced for the pain. But it didn’t make it any easier or less agonizing. I was frustrated. “Squeeze.” he murmured again. But I couldn’t my flesh didn’t listen. “I can’t.” I replied defeated. He let me breathe through it, running his fingers through my hair before a few strokes on my cock. “Try.” he said gently. I knew he would let go if I asked him to. But I was too determined to see this through. Because the promise of the pleasure I couldn’t even begin to imagine. And because it was him. And it would kill me now to have him any further away from me than this. “Kiss me.” I whispered back and as he did I made my muscles work again and as I released them he slid in a bit farther setting my body on fire again. I had to squeeze my eyes shut because tears prickled them and threatened to wet my cheeks. I threw my arm over my face and bit down on the flesh of my upper arm to stop me from screaming.

“Elio.” he said louder but still gentle, his voice like liquid honey on my ears that were shouting with blood making everything sound like underwater.

“Open your eyes.” he demanded. And I did a bit embarrassed. He kissed me again quickly, no teeth clashing and lip biting like before, not devouring, soothing.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked. I shook my head no. “Okay.” he leaned his forehead on mine and I dug my fingernails into his back a tad more, definitely leaving something for tomorrow. He moved in and this time it wasn’t so bad anymore, but I was inhaling deeply anyway. Every time he advanced a bit he let me adjust to the new stretch and it was going excruciatingly slow.

“You’re such a good boy Elio. You’re doing great.” he cooed when he was almost fully immersed. And it just made me want him even more.

He stayed unmoving for a while longer when all of him was inside me. The pain dulled down, like I knew it would. Yes, I was a little sore, but I didn’t mind. In my mind the pain made me almost more sensitive to everything, more perceptive, more deserving of what was to come. Oliver looked at me asking for permission to move and I granted it. He moved slowly at first out and in and out again. After a while he summoned the courage to move faster and as he did my body responded, moans echoed off the walls again and he had to shush me with his mouth, both of our moans mingling soon enough. And his paced picked up even more. The sight of him was a marvel. His mouth came to rest on my collar bone which he was kissing open mouthed occasionally in between muffling his moans. My fingers were travelling all along his back, scratching and lightly grazing his skin making goosebumps appear, making him tremble. I could feel him swell a bit more inside me, he was close. I wasted no time in reaching for my penis because I wanted us to finish together. But he swatted my hand away and replaced it with his, making me whimper and lift my hips up in time to meet his in the middle. I could feel him smiling. Our breathing got louder, our moans that much more crude and none of us cared if anyone else in the house heard. Because at this very moment I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs for all the world to hear, that he is mine and I am his. And suddenly, an explosion and the sound he made me wonder if it was even him, so primal and animalistic. The warmth that swiftly erupted inside of me and coated my insides, combined with his hand jerking me off made me come stronger than I ever had before. All over his hand and my stomach. I swear I could see stars. And he didn’t just stop there he rode himself and me through it like riding a wave. I forgot how to breathe for a while. I only remembered how, when he pulled away a collapsed on his back next to me, both our chests heaving in the aftermath.

“Putain.” I muttered under my breath. “Cazzo.” I swore again as I was coming back myself.

“Fuck.” Oliver chuckled and turned his head enough to look at me and caught me already watching.

“Come here.” he said for the second time that night. And I did because there was nothing I wanted more than to have him close again. I rested my head on his arm and he put his on my chest, both out legs tangled. I don’t know how long we stayed like this, but I wouldn’t mind staying for forever, his head on my chest, me running my fingers gently up and down his arm, a bliss. I though he was asleep when he suddenly stirred and made a sound. I kissed his cheek and squeezed his shoulder, before kissing him some more as he started caressing the side of my head. Oliver pulled away to look me in the eyes, I couldn’t help but smile.

“Call me by your name and I’ll call you by mine.” What an obscure thought, I loved it.

“Elio.” I pointed at him pressing my finger into his chest.

“Oliver.” he ran his thumb against my bottom lip again, I smiled wider.

“Elio.” I played along, he beamed, my favourite smile.

“Oliver.” he almost moaned.”Elio.” I whispered again grabbing him by the chin and making him kiss me again.

Conclusion: I will never get enough of _Oliver_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elio and Oliver's first night together continues but at the break of dawn things take a turn for Elio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey loves! 
> 
> First of all, I'd like to thank you all for the feedback on the first chapter! I was initially thinking of it being a stand alone, but because of your amazing support I decided to carry on with it and have more story outlines already written haha.
> 
> Second of all, I'd like to explain a bit of my process with the writing and put up a disclaimer (?). At first I wanted this to be based solely on the movie. But then I decided to pepper in some details/references from the book, so it's kind of a mix between the two and what I liked in each haha. Some parts might've been in the book I just sort of reimagined them for my writing purposes and I'm in no way trying to say I'm a better writer than André Aciman, who blessed us with this story and these characters. I just like writing about these two, because they're one of my fave characters ever. And I'm also not trying to say that this is how the story should've been, neither am I trying to come of like I know better. I don't I just like to have fun with it and I love writing so yeah. I'm also maybe planning on extending the story beyond the events of the first book/movie in a very different manner than 'Find me' if you'd like to see that (let me know in the comments!)
> 
> I hope you enjoy this week's chapter and let me know haha :) Have a great day and happy reading Peaches! :)

“Come here.” he said for the second time that night. And I did because there was nothing I wanted more than to have him close again. I rested my head on his arm and he put his on my chest, both out legs tangled. I don’t know how long we stayed like this, but I wouldn’t mind staying for forever, his head on my chest, me running my fingers gently up and down his arm, a bliss. I though he was asleep when he suddenly stirred and made a sound. I kissed his cheek and squeezed his shoulder, before kissing him some more as he started caressing the side of my head. When Oliver pulled away to look me in the eyes, I couldn’t help but smile.

“Call me by your name and I’ll call you by mine.” What an obscure thought, I loved it.

“Elio.” I pointed at him pressing my finger into his chest, testing it roll of my tongue for the first time.

“Oliver.” he ran his thumb against my bottom lip again, I smiled wider.

“Elio.” I played along, he beamed, my favourite smile.

“Oliver.” he almost moaned.”Elio.” I whispered again grabbing him by the chin and making him kiss me again.I lifted myself up and put each of my legs on either side of him, kissing him on the mouth fiercely.I was already ready to go and from what I could feel on my bum, he was too. I kissed down his jaw and his neck, mentally taking notes of the texture of his skin, of its dampness, that somehow made it feel more real once again. I was feeling brave and grinded my hips against his to tease him a little.

“Again?” he chuckled and brushed a curl away from my forehead.I nodded, hungry for more.

“Aren’t you sore?” Oliver asked and ran his fingers down my back and over my arse, making me shiver with anticipation.

“A little.” I admitted after my mouth has left his earlobe. “Does it matter?” I added and plopped down on him making our chest align as I propped my chin on his collarbone.

“Of course it matters.” he replied taking my hand, pushing away my bracelets with his nose and kissing the inside of my wrist. “I don’t want to hurt you.” he whispered into the dark, like he was actually scared.

“You can’t.” I craned my neck a bit more and kissed his cheek as it was the only place I could reach. He inhaled to start protesting, but I intercepted.

“And you won’t.” I assured him. And even if you did I’d take it. I’d take anything from you, hurt me all you want. Yes, I was feeling a bit raw, but nothing in the world would keep me away from him. Not when he was just lying there, just like he came into this world, with his perfect tan that diffused around his bottom, where it showed it’s true slightly more pink hue. I felt privileged seeing something that even the sun didn’t. And with golden hair that looked more silver in the cast moonlight. And definitely not when he kissed me like he did. He ghosted his mouth from the inside of my wrist to the bend of my elbow lighting me on fire from the inside. _Oh Oliver, you’ll kill me if you stop,_ I borrowed his words from my dream.

“Well, if you insist.” he shrugged playfully and turned us around before ravaging my mouth and my body, lighting the fire in me, brighter and stronger then up until now.

But I liked the feeling of being in control, I wanted to do things to him. I pressed my hands against his chest and make him roll onto his back. Very bold of him to assume I would just let him have his way.He giggled at me for taking the reigns this time. Because just a few minutes ago I was probably looking very scared and essentially clueless. Which, to be absolutely honest, I was still both of those things. But I liked to explore. And I liked unravelling him, slowly but surely. I liked learning what he liked and disliked. And from what I can tell he really liked being submerged inside of me.

I reached for the tub of vaseline and couldn’t get it open in the midst of my aroused frenzy. He pried it from my fingers and handed it back to me ready to go. I took a small amount and started rubbing it on him. Oliver’s head leaned back on the pillow and his lips parted letting out the sweetest of sounds I’ve ever heard. His skin flushed to the chest. His hands gripped my hips for dear life and would for sure leave marks for tomorrow. I was very tempted to let him come right away. But what would be the fun in that?I unwrapped my hand.

“Why did you stop?” he opened his eyes looking very alarmed. I smirked, it was working just like I wished it would. I grabbed his length again and raised myself on my knees positioning himat my entrance. I let it in just the smallest bit, not even actually in, teasing, sampling. Like when the toes of your foot just barely touch the surface of the water, but your whole body is already craving the cold to envelop you as you jump in. He swore under his breath and tightened the grip on my sides. But I changed my mind again raising on my knees once more.

“Oh just fucking do it, please.” he wailed and I had to chuckle. Seeing the ever so confident Oliver at my mercy, coming undone brick by brick was a sight for the gods. And I couldn’t believe I actually existed at the same time and place as him, let alone be allowed to do this to him. I was grateful.

I obliged and granted him entrance. One, because I longed for his moans and two because I couldn’t wait either. Having him fill me was like coming home after a long drive. You enjoy it and somehow you don’t want it to end, but at the same time you can’t wait to be at home and lie in your own bed. I propped myself on one of my hands rested on his chest and the other guiding him in the right direction. The first dip of him was very painful. The inhale through my teeth was sharp and could be transcribed as “sss” followed by a long “ah” shaky exhale.

Maybe he was right, maybe I was a bit too sore for doing this now. But I couldn’t deny myself any of this, any of him. I’ve been pining for him for weeks, fantasising about him inside of me for days on end. And above all, I knew the pain would subside. Sure enough it did. I let him guide my hips down, give up my control for a bit before I regained my composure. I found a rhythm we both seemed to enjoy a bit too much. This way he was hitting a different bundle of nerves buried deep inside me that made my breath hitch in my throat and my cock throb despite the occasional jab of pain. I was melting like butter on a hot summer’s morning in our garden. And he was too and soon enough we were melting into each other. This position tired me sooner than I thought it would. But I wanted to give him everything he wanted how ever fast and rough he asked for it. I let myself rest propping my dripping forehead on his shoulder and let him take the lead again. He flipped us around again and before I knew it he let go all over my chest. This time my eyes were wide open. It thrilled me to watch him peak. “Oliver” he half moaned. And with just a few strokes, his goo was mixing with my own “Elio.” I echoed.

He sat up on the bed when he came back to himself and grabbed a shirt that was reluctantly hang over the headboard, being a witness to what we have done. Oliver proceeded to clean his chest of the rest of us that had gotten there when he collapsed on top of me in exhaustion, the shirt becoming not a witness but a accomplice in the process.

“Did we make noise?” I asked suddenly anxious.

“Nothing to worry about.” he replied nonchalantly like he always did.

“I don’t know. Mafalda’s always looking for signs.” I informed him. Was he really that unmoved by anyone finding out about us, about tonight?

“Well, she’s not gonna find any.” he handed me the shirt to clean myself up as well, which I did before tossing it to the floor, trying to be as nonchalant as he would be about it.

“You wore that shirt the first day you were here.” I said almost under my breath. A picture of him getting out of the cab flashed before my eyes. A memory of how I brought up his luggage and showed him around resurfaced. Oh how much has changed between us since that first day Oliver. I was not who I was then after tonight. But you were precisely who I wanted you to be, from day one.

“Will you give it to me when you go?” I looked up at him hopefully. I banned myself from counting the days ‘till he was gone. But I knew we were on borrowed time anyway, I just tried not to think about it. Because if I did I’d probably start crying and I didn’t want him to see me cry again.

“We should try and get some sleep.” he whispered and I nodded already making myself comfortable on the bed, he joined me soon after cuddling himself right new to me.

It felt like it took him exactly two seconds to fall asleep, which couldn’t have been said about me. I manage to doze off a few times, but my mind was screaming and I couldn’t do anything to calm it down. What have I just done? It asked multiple times. This bedroom was mine ever since I can remember. I used to come here as a child and always give it up for my father’s students. And now? Now I had had sex in this bed, in my childhood bed, with one of them, with a man. Suddenly I started feeling very out of place, lying here like this, stark naked. Wrong even, with the remnants of him and myself on both our chests. I desperately wished to wash it away, but a thought of keeping a bit of him on me kept nagging at my brain.Anxiety and fear gripped me and they weren’t letting go. I wanted to move, to get up and walk over to my summer room, but I was paralyzed, I couldn’t bring myself to leave him even with this sudden distance that crept between us in the most unexpected moment. Wasn’t this what I dreamed about for weeks now? To lie with him naked under my sheets? I should feel save, like I did all night. But instead I felt weird and wrong and sick. Was it because I just did something twisted? Why didn’t I feel like this doing it with Marzia, who became shamefully irrelevant to me in these past hours? Was I changed? Did I like this person I now was? Did he? Both change and like me? Or would he again give me the stale icy gaze when he woke up? Maybe that’s why I was so scared now. That he would go back to his red swim suit self and act like none of this had happened. But that couldn’t have been it, because when he woke up just at the break of dawn and caressed my chest as I rubbed my tired eyes, my heart started beating so fast I was scared it was gonna give out. I both wanted him all around me and never to see him again. I wanted us to go back to what we were. Because I had no idea what we would become after last night. I looked at him and he smiled and I had no idea how to feel about it. Was it a good sign? Or a bad one? I’ve messed you up and now you’re like me, you’re in on it too, now we can feel awful together? I sat up and dodged his touches away, because I couldn’t stand them, they felt wildly inappropriate. It again, felt like he was burning me. And I was scared of not wanting to do anything with him anymore and also of wanting more still. Was this who I was now? What this how I was gonna live my life? Has everything changed? I just didn’t wanna feel for a second. Or at least feel normal again.

“Let’s go swimming.” I blurted out, because it was one of our morning rituals and I needed to test it for myself. I needed to test where we stood now or rather where I stood now.

We took our bikes to the lake like we always did. And it hurt more than I thought it would and definitely more than I would let on.

“Does it hurt?” he asked point-blank as I got on my bike. I shook my head no. But the yelp I let out as I sat on the bike gave me away. Oliver’s eyebrow shot up with a question, before he even asked. I needed to get a move on.

“Let it go.” I muttered and started pedalling away in the direction of the lake. I think he understood I needed space, because I arrived before him and despite leaving his bike next to mine in the grass, he let me do my own thing for a bit. He was still in my field of vision though, I never let him out of my sight. And this felt the most natural to us anyway. Being together, but not really. On speaking terms but not really. Just a few days ago I would drive myself crazy over it, wishing he would again touch my shoulder or at least talk to me. But now? Now, I was thankful.

I got out of the water and got dressed again and if I wanted to grab my bike, it was inevitable to come near him again.

“Are you gonna hold what happened last night against me?” he asked fiercely. I couldn’t blame him for misinterpreting my silence. It wasn’t fair, but it was the only thing I could do right about now. I was mad at myself for not voicing any of my feelings to him. I was scared he would be disappointed in me. I didn’t want to make him feel like it was a mistake. Because in all honesty in wasn’t.

“No.” I simply stated the truth. Because I wouldn’t. If anything I was the one to send that first note. I was the one to initiate it. Now I wish I didn’t, because we could’ve saved ourselves this trouble. And I’d pine for him from a distance. And I wouldn’t have to worry about him hating me now that the deed was done. I would simply never know if he liked me or not. Now though it would be his conscious decision to hate me. I could feel him getting annoyed and I still didn’t have a clue if him hating me would be worse than him wanting to repeat last night.

On our way back I was in bit of a less hurry than before. Partially because I was still hurting and partially because I was just tired. When we reached the house we could still catch a few hours of sleep before breakfast. We tried to keep quiet, which I think we managed. What should we do now? I asked myself as we found ourselves in our corridor. Should I go to my room? Should he go to his? Do I want him to? We just awkwardly stood there, like the two most shy people we were. With me rubbing the back of my neck nervously and him trying to decipher what was going on in my head all morning. I took the lead and walked to my room just like he then followed and entered his. I still kept tabs on him as he walked next to the open bathroom door. And I caught him already looking. I disappeared into my room not really sure if I wanted to sleep or just wait till breakfast is served. I stood by my window looking out to the world that was just waking up from its slumber. The shared door of our room opened but didn’t startle me.

“Elio, come here.” Oliver demanded and I obliged, like I always would. I didn’t want him to feel like something was wrong any more than he already did.

“Take your trunks off.” he commanded again. And I obeyed, without a question. He dropped to his knees and swallowed me whole. _Heaven,_ I thought immediately, resting my hands first in his hair then on the door frame. And just as fast as he dropped to kneel before me, he let go with a giggle.

“Well, that’s promising. You’re hard again. Good.” he said and literally shut the door in my face. And I was left there, with my trunks pooled around my ankles, my dick half hard, but knowing that last night was a good decision and I suddenly didn’t regret any of it. It was all wiped away with just a smear of his saliva on me. I didn’t regret sending the note, I didn’t regret stepping into his room last night, I didn’t regret him taking me because without that I would’ve never known the heaven it was to feel him near. It again felt like coming home and I had no idea why I ever questioned it. My place was next to him, around him, in him, with him and not anywhere else. And he left me pining after him again. The push and the pull, like magnets. And we were finally turned on our good sides, I hoped and I would never let that go. Our being on speaking terms but not really simply wasn’t enough.

When breakfast was served, he was already there with my parents as I joined them in the garden. I felt a sudden need to kiss my mum and my dad good morning. Why? To make myself believe I was still that person. I was still their child and nothing would change that even as I took new steps in my life. I wasn’t twisted or mangled. I was just me and Oliver happened to be the one I wanted and he also happened to be a man.He waited for me to sit down, I knew he did it because he was looking for signs of me being sore. I hoped I didn’t give it away too easily as I sat down on the chair and squirmed to make it more comfortable. Somehow I loved that pain, because it reminded him of me. And that if he never wanted to do it again, I’d still have him at least for today. He wiped his mouth and said:

“Professor, I got your note.. Thank you for reminding me. I’m go go into town to pick up thosetyped pages today, so maybe this afternoon would be a good time to….” he trailed of as my father was already cutting him off: “Later.” my father said and everyone around the table chuckled.

“We’ll look them over later, before you leave.” that sentence struck me more than I thought it would and definitely more than my father would’ve thought. My breath hitched in my throat, but I tried to not let show again. We’ve wasted so much time already, why waste more? I thought to myself. Our days were numbered since day one. And we let them just slip away like there was a thousand days to come. I couldn’t let him. I wouldn’t. As he went into town I was already longing for him again. I was already dreaming of his hands on my body, of him and letting him have his way with me. I was stupid this morning. I was scared and immature and stupid and I almost ruined it all. I needed to make it right again. Let him know I wanted him and nothing changed and I wanted him all the same.

“Okay so later.” he waved and let the breakfast table. “Later.” My father echoed again.

I decided I needed to see right away. So I took my bike and despite the ache in my bottom region biked all the way into town. I saw his bike leaned against a pillar and him exiting the news stand.

“Oliver.” I half shouted for him to notice me. He took in the sight of me on my bike, he was intrigued. I leaned my bike against another pillar and fumbled with my sunglasses before taking them off.

“You’re not sick of me yet?” he asked in his feint mean demeanour.

“No I just…..” I stammered looking for the right words before settling for the plain truth of my visit. “I just wanted to be with you.” my body was already twisting and turning every which way with nervousness.

He didn’t respond right away, which I interpreted as a sign to leave him be. “I’ll, I’m gonna…I’ll go.” I finally got out started scrambling for my bike. His next statement disconcerted me.

“Do you know happy I am that we slept together?”

“I don’t know.” I admitted, because I had no clue. “Of course you don’t know.” he chuckled incredulously.

“I don’t want you to regret anything.” he said. And I felt a pang straight at my heart for my behaviour this morning. “And I hate the thought that maybe I’ve messed you up…” he trailed off scanning me for my reaction. I didn’t know what to say. That this morning I did feel like that? Until he put his mouth on me again and made me sure that this was exactly what I wanted? That I never wanted anyone else to that to me? That I already missed him but didn’t allow myself to count the days until his inescapable departure. _That he’ll kill me if he stops?_ But my silence was once again misinterpreted.

“I don’t want either of us to pay for this, one way or another.” he started again.

“No I,….it’s not like I’m gonna tell anyone. You’re not gonna be, like, getting in trouble.” I started to clamber for words. Was he scared that I would tell my parents?

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” he chuckled again at my cluelessness as we started walking again. No, we wouldn’t pay for like that. But we would pay for it with our hearts, which indeed were the most valuable currency, we just treated it like it was nothing. And as we walked into one of the small alleys I was glad to find he hand already searching for mine in an invisible gesture.

I checked my nose whether it was bleeding again before asking: “Are you happy I came here?” because you could be happy that we slept together , but you might wanna keep it at just that. He got closer to me, scrutinising the street both ways to see if we were alone before answering.

“I would kiss you if I could.” he said looking straight into my eyes, his blue ones locked only and only on my green ones, none of us wavering this time. He got so close our breaths were mingling together no longer knowing which one was mine and which one was his. He licked his lips and then lightly dabbed the tip of my nose with his own.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey peaches! Once again I'd love to thank you for the amazing feedback! I was planning on posting thsi chapter on Thursday like the previous two, but since the world is in quarantine I thought we could use a little happiness with our favourite boys!
> 
> I am again saying that I don't claim to know better than the author and I'm using some of his original quotes from the book/film and not claiming them to be my own, because my brain definitely isn't able to come up with such profound and beautiful writing. I put them in to pay homage to CMBYN :)) So I hope you enjoy this little chapter and next week (possibly this week?) I'll see you guys with a chapter from Rome! :)

We were supposed to meet that afternoon. But my father had other plans for Oliver and so I ended up alone in the attic. And I successfully offended a peach. And when Oliver found me I wound up crying in his arms, because I felt sick again, but he showed me he was just like me and there was nothing wrong with that. I really didn’t want him to ever leave I needed him here with me.

After the incident we spend all our waking moments together. In Oliver’s _heaven,_ with me sitting by the round table transcribing music or just watching him. I practically forgot everyone else existed at that point. I still refused to count down the days we had left together because I didn’t want to spoil the joy I felt being with him. It spread like sunshine in my chest. We did all the same things we did before, we went swimming or for a run, or lounged around the pool with him writing, but they felt suddenly different. Perhaps we were friends first and lovers second. But then perhaps this is what lovers are. Sometimes when the house was shrouded in its usual afternoon slumber, we let our desires run wild. WIth the windows open of course, because as Oliver would say “It would be a sin to close the windows with such a view.”

Nights were also reserved only and exclusively for us. He also showed me his favourite secret spot in the house, where he swore he used to come out at night all summer without any of us knowing. It made me feel special, that he now shared it with me. It was also the place where he confessed he liked me from the start and wanted to let me know by touching my shoulder that one time, when I shrugged his hand away but hoped he would do it again since.

It was a particularly hot night, the one before we were to leave together for Rome. I had everything I ever wanted in life. I had Oliver, in his bed with me, bare-skinned under the covers. But the night was too blazing even for my liking. I kept tossing and turning unable to fall asleep, sweating and unable to get comfortable.

“Is your mind questioning it again?” Oliver whispered into the darkness, mistaking my constant squirming for ambiguity. It scared me.

I immediately turned to my stomach to look him in the face, his eyes locked on mine.

“What? No,no,no.” I started blabbering in between the kisses I placed all over his perfect face. I would never want to make him feel like I did after our first night ever again. Like I was not absolutely submerged in this. Like I was peaking over the edge already thinking about escape routes. No, Oliver, there is no escaping this, not because you wouldn’t let me, which I know you wouldn’t, but because I don’t want out. I only want in and further if it’s even possible.I don’t ever want to make feel unsure about me. Because I’m sure about this, about us. Because as I realized, you make me who I am and I like him. I like who I am with you.

“Okay, then what is it?” he laughed and stroked through my curls.

“I’m just too hot.” I smirked and shrugged my shoulders like a little kid too ashamed to admit what’s bothering them. He laughed again, the throaty laugh that only made an appearance sometimes. I liked that laugh, it brought such joy that exploded in my chest every time I heard it I couldn’t help but smile.

“Don’t go anywhere.” he said and was already getting out of bed, kissing my forehead as I tried to make him stay. Because even though I was too hot to sleep, the warmth his body radiated was well appreciated and maybe even needed if I’m being completely honest.

“You know I won’t.” I blinked and lied on my back with my arms folded behind my head, hoping for a slither of a breeze coming from the open window to tickle my chest. Oliver opened and closed the door carefully behind him, being mindful of not waking the whole of the villa up and I could hear his bare feet pat away. I somehow found myself to be jealous of the cold floor touching the skin of his feet so effortlessly. I just wanted him for myself. I was always envious of the water enveloping his whole body, I wished I could do it like that. To have him, to hold him fully like that, to almost make our bodies merge. I wondered where he went, but my question was answered as soon as he came back with a tall glass filled with ice cubes. I propped myself on my elbows and reached one arm out for the glass. He swatted it away and sat the glass on the floor, before climbing back to bed. Oliver took one of the many ice cubes and put in his mouth. One of his legs went over my hip and he was suddenly straddling me and guiding me to lie on my back. The weight of him on top of me became so familiar over the past few days, but I still longed for it like it was the first time. He was my homecoming. He was my everything.

As I did lie my head back on the pillow he brought the cube to my forehead, still holding it in between his warm lips. I could now smell the chamomile soap, that was always in each of our bathrooms and him, just purely him. He ran it down the side of my face making me giggle. A little droplet made its way just under my ear making me immediately colder in the process. Then hecontinued over my jaw and chin and up the other side and making me giggle even more as he slid it down my nose and smothering the sounds I made as he kissed me and let me suck on the ice for myself. I pushed it back to his mouth and he returned it to me coated in his saliva and we exchanged it until it was completely melted in both our mouths.

When the first ice cube was gone he reached for another one. He ran it across my lips and as I parted them to lap at the dripping water he took is away from me just to spite me like he always did. Making me feign a frown, but still chuckle at the same time, just like only he could. With the remainder of the cube he ran it over the shell of my ears before moving on down the side of my neck, over the big veins there successfully cooling me down. He then glided the cube over the column of my neck, making the water pool in the hollow of my throat. Next he slid it across my collar bone and up my shoulder, making me shiver as he went to the other side. And down both my arms he went right t the very tips of my fingers, paying extra attention to the insides of my elbows and undersides of my writs, which he found to be especially sensitive just a few afternoons ago. He hasn’t even properly touched me, but I was already shivering and fighting my hips from buckling up. I was cold, but I was burning on the inside. Burning with a desire to take him, to claim him mine for the second time that night. The sensation of the cold ice mixing in with his warmth of his skin was already sending jolts down my spine and making me squirm under him. I had no idea that this was not the best of it yet. I really thought nothing could undo me more than when he circled my nipple and I had to pull away from the sensation because it was becoming a bit too much. Too hot, too cold, too everything else at the same time. I winced and he took the ice away rapidly replacing it with his warm tongue sooting me. And again on the other side. Then he proceeded down my stomach and around my belly button, which made me laugh because my stomach was ticklish as he had the privilege of discovering. Water was practically dripping off of me and soaking the sheet underneath, providing the much needed and pleasant cold, which was essentially forgotten as I now had a different need in mind. He took a new ice cube to run down the protruding bones of my pelvis. And my hips went up almost forcefully as he ran it across the place where your legs meet your torso in a overly sensitive crook. He wasted no time in gliding it over my scrotum, making me move away, because just like with the nipple is was becoming a bit too much for me at times, but it also made me moan so loud I was afraid somebody might come looking for us. I was practically panting and begging him for release as the ice touched first my perineum and then the insides of my thighs. I was set o giving up as it slid over the undersides of my knees and down my calves to the bottom of my feet and between my toes.

“Alright?” he asked matter of factly. I could only nod, because I was afraid my voice might break if I spoke up.

“You like it?” he continued nonchalantly melting the cube on the bottom of my right foot. I swallowed hard and nodded again. I couldn’t begin to explain how much and what it was doing to me. What the sight of him was doing to em right now, on his knees by my feet, his hair disheveled and his eyes burning through me.

“Well let’s see how you like this then.” he smirked kind of wickedly before he put the rest of the ice in his mouth and then dived down devouring my cock. The sensation of the cold ice, mixing in with the hotness and wetness of his mouth nearly made me lose it. My hand went to his hair gripping it by the root and centring myself from coming right away. A growl, so loud it lifted my chest of the mattress ripped from somewhere deep in my throat and it didn’t even sound like me.

“Oh my fucking God! Merde.” I cussed under my breath as my other hand fisted the sheets to the side of me, hanging on for dear life. He chuckled around me, the vibration intensifying everything I was feeling right now by a hundred. He let go suddenly and stared at me from between my legs, waiting for my breathing to calm down. And as it did he circled the tip of his tongue over my exceedingly sensitive tip following with the ice cube and withdrawing it again. _You’ll kill me if you stop_ , I though again. But I might die now if you don’t give me more. But I think he was enjoying this, edging me, a bit too much, because every time I gasped at the loss of contact he smiled or giggled. And to be honest I was enjoying it myself even though I longed for the release like never before. Who knew a frozen piece of water could make you this fired up.

His voice suddenly ripped though the ringing in my ears:

“Turn around.” he said and I obeyed, though it took my body a while to learn how to work again and listen to my brain telling it to turn around and lie on my stomach on the damp sheet.

A new ice cube touched the nape of my neck making me strain it and resulting in a droplet running straight between my shoulder blades and nestling itself in the curve of my back. I could practically hear him smile again at my reaction. He covered the ice with the whole of his palm as he glided it over my spine making my back curve even more, which I think he liked the look of. Because right after that his hand guided my hips up, making me prop myself up on my elbows and knees, on all fours, which only exaggerated the dip of my spine further.

“Good?” he had to make sure again, because this was another one of our firsts.

“Good.” I echoed with a strain in my voice and almost breathless. The ice made its way over my bum and the back of my thighs, at this point I was practically shaking from the cold sensation and incited the hot air coming from the outside cheerfully. He let the ice slip between my ass cheeks, making me wince and taking it as a cue to stop, because I was too sensitive for that. The vaseline was now kept on hand in his room. And his warm, hard member entering was also welcomed with pleasure again. It started out slow like it always did. Because Oliver was always making sure I wasn’t hurting or too raw for a second or a third round, if I had enough energy in me. And then when he was sure, he started speeding up and soon enough the room was filled with lewd and obscene sounds of bodies slamming into each other and desires being fulfilled.

“Oliver.” he would moan into the room.

“Elio.” I would respond.

I was glad he didn’t lose sight of the ice cube and kept running it over my back and front and wherever he could reach, ending with rubbing my cock up and down with the remnants of it held firmly in his palm, dissolving the last of it on my burning body, enhancing the experience. For both of us, because every time he would run it across a particularly perceptive spot on its underside my bum would squeeze rather ferociouslymaking him moan louder each time. It didn’t take long before I was left twitching in his hand still riding me out of my high. He followed soon after with an almost animalistic growl and collapsing on top of me making my knees and elbows flatten again. His boiling hot, sweaty body on top of mine, just like in my dream. He rolled off of me, because of a fear of crushing my delicate ribs. Oliver’s lips touched my temple in a tired sloppy kiss.

“Better?” he asked with a smile and brushing a loose curl away from my sticky damp forehead.

“Better.” I smiled back. “Thirsty now.” I chuckled and made him laugh out loud, that throaty laugh again. He reached down for the glass that was now half water, half ice and handed it to me, before lying on his back. I slurped the cold water, that was soothing my now dry throat.

I sat it back down on the floor lying my body over his as I did. I was about nestle my head back on my pillow, giving Oliver space so he wouldn’t get so frustrated over getting hot as I did, but he stopped me and I lied my head on his chest which I preferred anyway. My leg went over his and he was lightly caressing my back lulling me to sleep.

“Aren’t you hot?” I asked giggling into his chest.

“Yes. But you’re staying put.” he answered kissing the top of my head.

“There’s plenty of ice in the kitchen if need be.” he smiled against my hair and didn’t let me go.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys arrive to Rome and Oliver graces Elio with new experiences he didn't know he needed! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves! 
> 
> Once again I'd like to thank you for the amazing feedback on the last chapter! :) It really keeps me going haha! :) I hope you enjoy this Roman holiday haha and I'll see you next week with more fun and more of our boys! :))

Leaving for Rome was freeing in a way. We were never really free to do as we pleased, but at least we were liberated from the watchful stares of people we knew and saw every day. From Mafalda always looking for signs. From my parents who were definitely onto us by now as I began to understand. It’s why they let me go with Oliver after all. My mother said it would be nice for us to just get away for a few days before he left. And she was right, like she always was. She knew about us, before either of us even did.

We had to take a bus from our village and then a train from a nearby town. The weather was muggy and hot, making us all sweat through our clothes as soon as we put them on in the morning. But I didn’t mind as I lied my head on Oliver’s shoulder on the bus in a pretend slumber. I prohibited myself from falling asleep for real though. I wouldn’t miss a second of this closeness out in the public, even if somebody threatened me to put my head on a spike. It was quite clever on my part, if I do say so myself. We were just two men travelling together to Rome and as I “fell asleep” my neck simply wasn’t strong enough to support my head. And his shoulder was just placed conveniently enough for it to land on. I may have stolen a few faint smiles at this theory during the bus ride. Oliver was reading, but sometimes he stopped and looked out of the window at the beautiful country changing behind the glass, with his chin propped on the top of my head, again the unspeakable brilliance of subtlety. On the train he opened up his book again and let me read with him, so it was impossible for me not to lean on him. I suppose it was the same thought processon his part, behind this as my pretence of sleep.

We took a taxi to the hotel and as soon as we arrived to our shared room the clothes were to be off. The taxi felt stuffy, not more than the bus did, but still. We were both damp and sticky from the sweat and couldn’t wait to peel all our garments of, not even one by one to tease each other, just as a whole to feel a bit freer again. Oliver opened the window and rested his forearms on the window sill as he smoked his Gauloises cigarette which’s taste and smell will always remind me of this exact summer, this exact ripple in my timeline.

I joined him in the window overlooking one of Rome’s streets. We were in our own world, up above everyone and everything, just us. I took the cigarette and took a drag before giving it back to him. I dared to look at him like this, with my hands griping the window sill and leaning back into the room. And the curve of his spine and the roundness of his perfect peachy bum lit a fire in my. I couldn’t help but touch him again. Running my hand from the nape of his clammy neck down his spine and over the smooth skin of his ass, that was still untouched by the Italian sun. Just like the peach I always pictured it to be, I thought to myself.

“Now there won’t be a poetry reading if you keep doing that.” he chuckled, letting out the smoke out of his mouth as he looked at me. Something inside of me stirred and I felt an undying need to taste him again. I let my desire run free and bit into that perfect juicy cheek of his bum, not too hard to hurt him. He laughed again and ran a hand through my almost wet hair.

“There definitely won’t be a poetry reading now.” he said and brought my face to him to kiss him. He put out the rest of the cigarette and pulled me close, our bodies sticking together as our chests were aligned. I didn’t mind the warmth of his body or the feel of his sweat. It only made it feel that much more real. Like I was getting something of him, that nobody else got to experience. His tongue was in my mouth, hot and resolute to explore everywhere, even though it’s been there thousands of times over the past few weeks. I was clambering all over him, trying to pull him closer to me even though there was nothing between us, not even air. My hands were in his hair first, then leaving subdue marks over his back and shoulders, before returning for his juicy peach and ending up on his ever so perfect apricock. He pulled away, making me sigh in frustration. I wanted him and I wanted him now.

“Shower first.” he commanded and without skipping a beat left for the bathroom, leaving the door open. I popped my head in as he was starting the water, the rhythm of it drumming the tiles. An idea sprang into my mind, like it has many times before, but I didn’t know how to ask for it, I wanted to get in with him. But I’d settle for watching him, with my bottom lip held between my thumb and my pointer finger, much like it was now, if this was the case.

“Are you coming in or what?” his head popped out of the shower door. My heart suddenly started beating so fast I though it was gonna give out. I had to tell my body multiple times that it was time move. I nodded and stepped in under the stream of water. It might’ve not been his first time showering with someone, but it surely was mine and I was trying to remember everything about it. From the way the droplets clung to his light eyelashes, to how they fell on his strong back and down his arms and chest. The way that chest risen and touched my own before falling back down. I had to kiss him. I had to let my tongue wrestle with his in our mouths, before falling in a comfortable sync. I had to then let it roam around his jaw and shells of his ears, which made him smile and down the pulse point of his neck till I reached his broad shoulders and rested my face there in the crook of his neck letting the water wash over us like a manmade waterfall.

I felt at home, I felt likethis was my place on earth, with his sculpturesque arms around me, holding me upright and his heartbeat audible even through the running stream. I suddenly wanted to cry, for I knew the day would come soon enough when I’d look up and he won’t be there. I latched my mouth onto the spot where his collar bone met the centre of his chest, like a cub latches onto its mother. He lifted my head making me let go of him and attached his already swollen mouth to mine backing me out of the stream and leaning me onto the shower’s cold tiled wall. And as we kissed I imagined our bodies, slowly melting into each other, me becoming him and him becoming me for that moment of our connection.

“Turn around.” he whispered into my ear and I did as I was told, his hushed voice sending sparks down my spine and into the pit of my stomach. He held my head by my chin and turned it to the side so he could still kiss me as he pressed his already hard dick in between my ass cheeks letting me know exactly what he had in mind.

His mouth left mine and was soon replaced by two of his fingers, I took it as a sign to suck on them. After a while, when they were sufficiently coated with my saliva they entered me from behind carefully as Oliver made sure I was fine and ready for more, because I still sometimes struggled. The cool tiled wall was a nice contrast to his hot body. Oliver’s foot slithered in between mine and moved one of them to the side while his hands held me by my hips and made me pucker them up and arch my back, to made his entrance more comfortable for both of us. He coated his hand with his own saliva before rubbing it all over him in lieu of the vaseline and then slowly entered me. I winced at first because he hit something in me that sent a sharp jolt of pain straight into my belly button. I almost lost my footing on the slippery floor. I took a step forward and raised myself only slightly on my toes to level with him. That seemed to help. And like always he started picking up speed and fell into a pleasant rhythm. The water was now only hitting my bum sometimes, but it was very well appreciated. Oliver took a step forward making me straighten my back onto his chest. His hand found my chin again and I strained my neck to the side to let him kiss me, devour me. His other hand found first my belly and then my wanting dick, rubbing it up and down until I was once again, moaning into his mouth. But for the first time, I didn’t have to catch myself for being too loud. For there was no one to come looking for us. I nuzzled my face into his palm, moaning in pleasure, before his thumb found its way into my opened mouth. I grazed it with my teeth first, then sucked on it like my life depended on it and moaned around it all the same sending the vibrations into his own body as he finished with a swell and a growl, coating my insides at which I tried desperately to keep it in, for it meant I had something of his inside me long after he left.

He wasted no time in spinning me around and pressing the back of my body, from my shoulders to my hips, onto the cold wall. He fell down onto his knees and latched his mouth to my cock like it was the most special and delicious dessert on the planet and if he didn’t get a taste now, he would never have the chance again. The way he engulfed me was almost aggressive. I laced my fingers in his hair and tucked at the root, because I liked the sound he made around me then. The way he moved his tongues in a skilled way and send me into over drive, made me into a real life wire. The way he swallowed me whole I didn’t understand. He felt my attempt of pulling away before I released and held me tighter because of that until I finished into his mouth.He let go, licked his lips like I was something delicious and smacked them together like he always did after he finished one of the glasses of Mafalda’s apricot juice. I was spent, leaning on the wall, wishing for my knees not to buckle underneath my weight. Oliver stood up from his perch on his knees and held me close to him under the steady stream of water caressing the back of my skull until I calmed down from my high.

“Can I do that to you sometimes?” I asked into his chest like a shy child afraid of the reaction.

“Of course.” was his reply before he held me by my cheeks and kissed me into oblivion. I didn’t even know my limbs could grow so limp until I was made to stand on my own as he lathered the hotel’s soap between his palms and then ran them over my whole body worshiping its every curve, edge and crevice washing away the last wafts of the chamomile soap of our villa. As he washed the suds away, he made sure to kiss every surface of my exposed skin he could reach. Then he reached for the shampoo and washed my hair, which might have been the most intimate we’ve ever been despite what we’ve just done. I’ve never let anyone wash my hair since I was little. And to be completely honest it hasn’t even occurred to me. But still the same it send tingles down the back of my skull and neck, making me mold into his touch and just stand there with the water washing over us before I did the same for him. I felt so lucky, so privileged to touch him like this, to see him doing such mundane tasks, to enter his world when he was vulnerable. His confident persona was washed away with the water and the soap and he was just Oliver, _my Oliver._

We dried each other off with the fluffy hotel room towels, stealing multiple kisses along the way. Oliver wrapped his towel around his hips and went into the room to search his luggage for clothes to wear tonight as I stood in the doorway, watching every ripple of muscle in his back as he fiddled with the bag.

A strange fear gripped me, that tonight, we won’t be as free as we would like and our whole existence will be once again diminished to subtle, chaste barely there touches, that I would accept a bit too eagerly and long for them all night. We won’t be able to kiss mercilessly in front of the other bookstore patrons and poets and Oliver’s publisher or Roman passersby. And I felt the desperate need to have something of his with me all night to keep this fear at bay all night until we returned to our little detached paradise, that I now called this room. It was our little Eden, where we could truly be who we were. As Oliver pulled out a pair of boxers out of his bag, my body got a mind of its own and snatched them from his hand and proceeded to put them on. This way I could keep him close all night, without suspicion. He chuckled, but didn’t object anyway and took mine instead that were a bit too tight on him, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“What’s next? You’re gonna wanna use my toothbrush?” he joked as he ran a hand through my wet hair in a gentle almost loving manner. I liked it when he did that.

“Only if you let me.” I smirked and looked up at him through my eyelashes, because I’ve seen people do that when they really wanted something, but didn’t want to say so.

“WIth that face of yours, of course I’ll let you.” he chuckled again and took my face in his hands and pecked my lips faintly, like he was afraid I would break if he kissed me too hard. I put my hands over his on my face and bit his lip in response and once again eluded a laugh from him.

“Now get dressed, we’re gonna be late as is.” he smiled his perfect American smile and pecked my nose before letting me go.

I could picture our lives like this. Going to poetry readings, meeting your publishers, listening to somebody pour their soul out in front of strangers in a packed Roman bookstore that is too hot to be comfortable, but every one shuts up and listens for a second before the racket takes place again. Stealing looks and interlacing pinkies when no one’s watching, just to let each other know you’re there. And after the poet is done reading, heading out to dinner and drinking grappa, listening to people’s anecdotes, while your foot rests snugly on mine. You serving me martinis when the waitress doesn’t know how to. And then when the festivities are in full swing, sneaking out on your arm, with my head pleasantly spinning and you and your cigarettes….

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” I said as I sat down by the church and held my head between my hands. My head that was no longer pleasantly spinning, but rather making me sick, because the whole world was in motion all the time, the only thing keeping me centred was Oliver’s big hand on my back.

“Do it then. You’re gonna feel better.” he replied and his hand ran through the hair on the back of my head soothingly. I shook my head no. I couldn’t possibly, there was nothing I hated more in the world then throwing up. It always burned my throat and made the tears well in my eyes.

“Come on.” he nagged me on. But I shook my head again. Even if I didn’t hate the feeling of my previous food making a raging comeback, I couldn’t do it. It just wasn’t an option.

“If you can’t…” he said “…just stick your fingers down your throat. I promise you’ll feel better.” he smiled at me and still caressed my scalp with his fingers. I shook my head again. That is absolutely not happening.

“C’mon. Before I have to do it for you.” he laughed and his thumb ran the curve of my bottom lip like it loved to do. Suddenly something stirred in me and I shot up running to the nearest bin, with Oliver on my heels. I grabbed the rim of trash bin and started retching. He was quick to brush the hair out of my face and held my head in his hands for support until I was done. When I straightened, ashamed that he just had to see that, Oliver’s huge hands held my face and his thumbs wiped the tears away from my eyes, then kissed my nose and my forehead and let me hide my face in his chest.

“Better now?” Oliver asked as he stroked my hair. I nodded with my face still buried in his broad chest, smelling the hotel soap and him, keeping me safe, my arms already circling him, keeping him close to me.

“Let’s find you some water, shall we?” he said in a bit more authoritative tone, but ever so gently as he propped me up and we walked to the near by drinking fountain, with me leaning on him, which was partly because I was still drunk and partly because I still wanted him close.

When I rinsed my mouth and drank the water, my energy from before come back in full force. I wanted to sing and to dance and to enjoy Oliver’s presence, his light demeanour and the pure joy of just being together. And so we danced and we sang and at one point I even made him carry me, because my legs were giving out, but I just used it as an excuse to once again be one with his body, because my legs were perfectly fine and we walked and when we reached Via Santa Maria dell’Anima, he backed me into a wall and without a doubt in his mind kissed my mouth, let his tongue play with mine, while I hooked my leg around his thigh. And this was the most he let on of himself that night, without a care in his mind that anyone might see. Let them, for he is mine and I’m his. Via Santa Maria dell’Anima will forever be my favourite spot in Rome and I promised myself to always visit it when I’m here. _For I might never see him again, but in this place,at this time we will always be truly free._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elio wakes up with his first ever real hangover, thankfully Oliver is there to help him through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry it took longer than expected but I was in kind of a rut. I've written this chapter then rewrote it, then changed it back to the original but I was stuck about halfway and didn't want to post anything I wasn't at least a bit proud of :) So enjoy this piece in these trying times and stay safe loves! Elfie

I woke up the next morning, with the sun streaming into the room through the break of the curtains, in a thin ribbon of light. I was lying on my stomach and Oliver’s muscular form was molded into my side, his foot lightly running up and down the back of my calf in a gentle manner. Last night when we went to sleep I couldn’t wait ‘till morning, ‘till I could look in those beautiful eyes and hear his sonorous voice, feel his smooth hands on my body and the weight of him next to me. I was already tingling with anticipation as sleep claimed me.

My heart fluttered in my chest when I opened my eyes and saw him next to me, his hair sticking every which way still managed to look somewhat put together, his eyelids still a little heavy with sleep, but his lips curled into the most handsome smile, that lit his whole face up.

“Good morning.” Oliver said, his voice raspy from the lack of use in the past few hours and pressed a kiss to my temple. I let out an appreciative _‘mhmm’_ before greeting him myself and kissing his mouth in a lazy, sloppy manner he didn’t seem to mind. He propped his head on one of his arms, bent at the elbow while the other ran through my tangled mess of hair, down my neck and in between my shoulder blades and the already mapped out way up, because the sheet covering me didn’t let it further. His gaze was focused on my face, deciphering my reaction precisely.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, but didn’t stop caressing me and sending shivers down my spine, making goosebumps rise on my flesh and making the back of my skull tingle. And as the words left his mouth I remembered last night’s affairs. It was my first time throwing up after drinking a bit too much and I didn’t recognize the dull ache of my head. I was a tad ashamed, but at the same time I was happy that it was him, who was present during another one of my firsts. I wish he could be always there during any of my firsts. I hid my face in the pillow, huffing, like a guilty child, because the shame from my highly unattractive retching made me. I always wanted to win him over, think higher of me and this simply wasn’t doing it so. Oliver stopped moving his hand in that loving way and instead squeezed my shoulder, with a breathy laugh escaping him.

“Headache?” he chuckled and tousled my hair. I nodded too embarrassed to answer properly. I dared to steal a look at him. He was beaming, his eyes were soft and affectionate, not cold and distant like I expected them to be, like they sometimes turned and pierced me back in the villa over the past weeks. How could I ever thought he would judge me? He’s saw me at my worst and he didn’t, a silly drunk moment wouldn’t make him change his mind and a warm feeling spread inside my chest and I felt like Oliver bathed me in sunshine again. I let myself enjoy this view and I tried to tattoo it somewhere inside my brain so that I would never forget, that he looked like a painting, with the white sheet casually draped over his sculpturesque figure, his smile alone warming the room. And I’d call it _When God visited Rome_. I thought it was a long time since I’ve memorised his face, but I always found it even more stunning than I thought it was. I guess my mind just wasn’t capable of capturing such greatness.

Suddenly he broke his position and tore me out of thought by standing up from the bed. I clambered for his arm in a failed attempt to make him stay. One of his knees propped him on the bed as his huge hand ran through my hair and down the side of my face, until it found a place under my chin, bending my neck backwards with my face towards his.

“I’m gonna get you a glass of water. You’ll thank me later.” he smirked and pecked the tip of my nose and my forehead, before getting lost in the bathroom. And as a result of him leaving letting me have a glance at his perfect peach bum. He came back with a tall glass of cold water and sat down next to me and put his hand on the back of my neck, with his thumb and pointer finger massaging the tight knots of muscles there. I didn’t even realize I was so parched until it touched my lips and coated my throat from the inside. At first I just wanted a sip, but that didn’t satisfy my needs and I was soon finished with the whole glass and left panting for air as soon as the glass left my lips. Oliver took it from me and put it on the bedside table.

“There’s your cue.” his face nudged the side of my head playfully.

“Thank you.” I smiled back his way.

“How about I make you a cup of coffee before we head out for the day? It tends to help.” he chuckled again, not in a mocking way but nonetheless, finding my first real hangover very funny. I nodded again, yawning. Yes, an _espresso_ , might be exactly what I need right now. As he left for the little kitchenette, once again gracing me with a perfect view of his backside, I stretched the sleep out of my limbs, cracking my spine in the process, which felt way better than I thought it would.

Oliver came back handing me a small cup and sat opposite me with his feet still on the ground. I took a sip of the too hot coffee burning my tongue and my throat at that and scrunched my nose as I tasted it.

“Not good?” he smiled to cover up his embarrassment. Coffee was definitely not one of his strong suits then. 

“This, Oliver…” I started. “…might actually be the worst coffee I’ve ever had in my life.” I laughed, but took another sip because the caffeine running through my veins felt nice either way, even if the coffee itself made my mouth twist in peculiar ways.

“I think you may have insulted the Italian in me.” I kept going on and laughing as I nudged him playfully in the shoulder with my head. He ruffled my hair again and took my face in his hands, almost covering it since his palms were pretty much the size of small plates and kissed my mouth, tasting the awful drink for himself of me.

“Well, I’m sure there are ways I can make it up to you.” he smirked and started kissing my face all over, making me giggle even more.

“I’m sure there are. I can think of a few.” I joked in between the affection, he let out an appreciative sound. I didn’t know how he did it, how he lit this fore inside of me, not wavering once. But he did it nonetheless and my fire was already raging. Hangover long forgotten, I heaved myself up and onto his lap, straddling him and kissing him into oblivion. Because my body was asking for him and it was asking now. His hot mouth on mine, our saliva already mixing, my fingernails already marking him as mine and only mine. His hands covering the small of my back, pulling me in closer, not leaving even the slightest sliver of air between us. Because he too, didn’t want anything there, anything that could keep us apart.

Oliver pulled away, but let our foreheads lean on each other. I could feel his warm breath tickling my face.

“First though, fetch me a glass of water, will you?” he stopped me dead in my tracks.

“Right now?” I questioned, eyes wide and alarmed. Did I do something wrong? “Uhm.” he nodded back. I stood up, jutting my chin out like a sulking child, being denied another piece of candy.

“Go.” Oliver raised his eyebrows with a smile and buoyantly smacked my right ass cheek to make me get a move on. I walked over to the sink and filled the glass with water with shaky hands, because I was utterly baffled, then I brought it back to him, waiting for an explanation. I handed him the glass, he took a sip and put it on the bed side table where it looked almost untouched. I understood then, as I looked at it, he wanted to make sure I was okay to go after yesterday’s heated shower, where I once again struggled a little before it started feeling the way it’s supposed to feel. And he knew well enough not to ask me, because I would lie dauntlessly at the promise of more.

“Thank you.” he said and kissed my stomach, as he pulled me in, by his hand already digging into my exposed bum. I had to hold onto him by his hair, that I worshiped, I wanted to run my finger through all of it, memorise its texture, pull him to me closer, closer and closer still.

As his eyelashes continued to butterfly kiss the soft of my stomach as his nose made its way down, the tender flesh where your leg meets your torso that always coiled the desire tighter in me, as he learned quite early on, making me squirm and buck up my hips and grip his hair tighter. But he still didn’t give me the satisfaction I was looking for, he made a point of not touching me where I wanted him most. He looked up at me through his light eyelashes and smirked devilishly as the first knuckle of his finger found its way smoothly between my bum cheeks and inside of me. I grunted and moved my whole body towards that sensation, in an illusion, that there was more for me, that was completely off the mark. Because as soon as I moved in that direction he withdrew, leaving me gasping at the loss of contact. Oliver’s hand reached out and grabbed me by the back of the head to bring my face closer to his and kissed me, I followed without a doubt. I straddled him once more and tried to make him lie down on his back, with my palms pressed tightly against his chest as his hands covered the sides of my face and I failed miserably at that.

“No, no, no, no.” he tutted with a smile when he pulled away but didn’t let go of my face.

“Always so very eager.” Oliver chuckled “Slow down.” he kissed my forehead and then my nose and my chin, leaving me breathless before he attached his mouth to mine again and kissed me slowly, affectionately, like he was trying to slow time and get as much of my taste in as he could, relishing in it almost. And in turn making me want to touch and feel every part of him, with my hands, with my mouth, worshipping the masterpiece that he was inside and out.

He made me raise myself on my knees, on the bed, propping my self on his broad shoulders, that were perfectly tanned from the weeks spend in the Italian sun. He ran his fingers up and down my dick once, twice, I was already on the brim, the desire ready to uncoil. And as his lips wrapped around my tip I was almost ready to burst both figuratively and literally. But he pulled away again, the very point of his tongue teasing the underside of my over sensitive cock, once, twice. Enveloped it again and let go. Enveloped it again with a light suction and let go with a pop. My fingernails dug into those perfect shoulders, definitely leaving marks. Oliver’s enormous hands rubbed my hips before he started to lower me down onto him. And as soon as I felt the tip of his hard hot dick I almost rammed my hips onto his lap in a desperate attempt to get more of him. But he stopped me again.

“Slow down.” he commanded again, but his voice remained gentle. I nodded and let him guide me. Only the very tip of him penetrated me, opening me up and making an audible ‘aaaah’ fall of my lips, which he mimicked. He refused to move either in or out. I grunted and let my forehead lean on his shoulder. I lifted my head up and bit his shoulder in a silent plea. He let go of my hips, in a cue that he was giving the control over to me. I really needed to feel more, I was teased enough, but I granted him the wish and took his advice on taking it slow. All of the way down until my bum touched the tops of his thighs. He let out air through his nose during all of it. And this slow way was like getting to know him all over again even though I swear I knew his body like it was my own. His head fell back and he gripped my hips again steadying me, needing to feel me, to keep me close, steadying himself as well. This way his neck was exposed to me and I wasted no time in revering it, covering all of it, from the soft spot under his ear through the column of his throat to the crook of it, in kisses. Slow, burning, hungry kisses. I bit at his pulse point making him wince and tense at the sensation. Making his hands pull me in to his chest, his mouth on mine in seconds. And down again, making us both shiver. And up again as slowly as I could manage.

“Good boy.” he praised me, because I was following his orders. And down again, his breathing was getting heavier. And I wanted him, I wanted this forever. I wanted, I needed to feel him all around me, all inside of me, always. I kissed the shell of his ear and then bit on his earlobe. His hands started guiding me again. Up and down, up and down again picking up speed only slightly. He kissed my face soppily then attached his lips to mine again, muffling the rather obscene sounds he was making, mingling them with mine. We were free to do what we wanted, we could be as loud as we wanted, but we still only kept the sounds for ourselves. Because they were ours and nobody else’s. He lifted me up so his body left mine, I grunted and Oliver kissed my displeasure away, only like he could. He lied me down on the bed and asked me to lay on my stomach. I followed and his huge hands made my hips pucker up to grant him easier access. And as he did he hit spots in me I wasn’t even aware of until now. The sensation was heightened somehow and I couldn’t quite pin point if it was because of all the teasing or this new position. It made me hide my face in the mattress and scream and clamber behind me to find him, to hold onto him. His hot body pressed into mine, with his hands propping him up on either side of my head where it was easy for me to reach them and hold onto his wrists or kiss the side of his thumb. I didn’t know if he did it because he just wanted me close or whether he did it because he knew about my dream. “Isn’t it boring when I talk about m dreams?” I’d asked him. “Nothing you say could ever be boring.” he’d replied. I was already growing sad, that this couldn’t be my every morning until the rest of my days. That this couldn’t be my hangover cure for as long as I live. But I refused to count the moments and instead decided to make all the rest of the moments count. And suddenly the desire inside of me, the coil growing tighter by the second, with every thrust of his hips unraveled and I came just like that, hands free for the first time in my life. Oliver followed soon after and I longed for as much of him inside of me as I could take, I needed to feel him swell and pulse inside, not pull out fast like he usually did. I let him kiss the side of my face that was exposed to him and held him close whispering.

“Stay, please. Don’t go.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elio and Oliver's last day in Rome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the amazing feedback loves! <3 I can't tell you how much I appreciate it! This chapter concludes the boys' time together in the summer of 1983. But since this story is now my baby and I love these characters so much I take the liberty of continuing it. So yeah I'll see you "in a few years" hopefully next week!

After another one of my emotional outbursts, Oliver made me get up and enjoy the city for the day. Which I would have gladly done, if it wasn’t for his presence that I was so immersed in that even Rome couldn’t take my eyes of him, but we roamed the streets anyway. Not like we did the previous night, because now the streets were full of Romans and tourists alike. And Oliver was very aware of every look that lingered just a bit too long over us, to be as carefree as he was in the early hours of the morning. I didn’t care as much and I grabbed his hand and intertwined our fingers every chance I got. Or bumped his knee with my own under the table when we were having lunch.But nonetheless, our day was pleasant. We bought coffee for my headache, then walked through gardens, decorated with statues much to Oliver’s pleasure and he talked to me about history with such sparkle in his eyes I couldn’t bring myself to stop him even though I knew some of the stories, curtesy of my father. The gardens were my favourite part, because we could be hidden and steal a few kisses under the canopy of leaves. Then we ate ice cream and went for dinner and frizzante afterwards, though I didn’t drink much, because for one, my stomach was still upset with me after last night and two, I wanted the last few moments of him clear and crispy as ever, not veiled in a hazy shroud of alcohol in my veins. All day, I couldn’t wait to finally go back to our room and where I could snatch him from Rome’s clutches and have him all to myself for the remaining hours, that kept squeezing the air out of me when I lost track of myself and I let myself think about them. 

As the door of our room closed I couldn’t wait any longer. I pinned him down against it and kissed his lips hard, asking him to let me have a taste of his tongue once more. I was desperate and my kisses were as well. I wanted and I needed all of him all at once. He didn’t laugh at my eagerness then, because I think he understood and I think he wanted me all the same. I backed him onto our bed and started undoing the buttons of his shirt and failing awfully as per usual. Oliver helped me undo them and pulled his shirt over his head much like he did the first night we spent together. In a simple gesture I made him lay down on the bed, while I too, took my shirt off and then straddled him, before once again attacking his face with my mouth. I kissed his lips and his ears, his picture perfect jaw before moving on to his neck tasting the hot late summer day on his beautifully tanned skin.His broad chest was explored by my hands and I tried again desperately to memorize its texture. And as I kissed down his stomach I was set on bringing him pleasure with my mouth, just like he did for me only yesterday. I tried it numerous times before in the steamy long drawn afternoons or before we let slumber claim us at night, but he never let me finish it. It absolutely thrilled me to see him peak. And the idea of bringing that pleasure to him like this, coiled my insides. I was hardened just by the thought of it. 

I unzipped his shorts and being the tentative student I was, took them off along with his underwear, just like he did at night to me. I kissed the jut of his hip bone, like I wished to do so many times, when he was lying in his _heaven_ and it was covered by the thin fabric of his swimming trunks. He sighed at that and a pride rose in me, nagging me to go further. My heart was thumping so loud I was afraid he would hear it, I was nervous and exited and I wanted to give him all the pleasure in the world, even if it would meant never again experiencing my own. 

I wasn’t half as good in teasing him and not letting him get what he wanted when he looked like that: sprawled on the bed, his hair a mess, his eyes squeezed shut and his chest rising and falling with quiet moans escaping his mouth with my every move. I stroked him a few times at which the muscles of his flawless stomach clenched and relaxed. I couldn’t help but smile. And without a warning I licked from the root of his cock to the very tip, making him shiver and swear under his breath. I did so maybe once or twice, paying special attention to the ridge at the head of it that made him fist the sheets. And then I finally took him into my warm and welcoming mouth, sliding my tongue over him and sucking lightly. His head lifted off the mattress and he looked me right in the eyes, which made the breath hitch in his throat visibly. I bobbed my head up and down never breaking that eye contact. Oliver’s hand soon found it’s way under my chin and made me stop because he pulled me to him and kissed me passionately. But I knew what this meant, he wouldn’t let me finish what I started and so I wiggled myself out of his reach and made my way back to his hard manhood that was now slick with my saliva, I resumed what I was doing, determined. He soon began to squirm and breathe loudly and again pulled me up and kissed me, definitely tasting himself now on my tongue. He was devouring me, like he wanted to taste me all at once, like there was nothing else in this world but my mouth. I pulled away, pecked his nose and smiled mischievously before once again returning to my post between his legs. And as his hand found my face for the third time, I thought he was going to try to pry me off of him again. I didn’t want to let go, I wanted to undo him completely. And as I couldn’t think of anything better, so I rammed my face down onto his groin, swallowing all of him triggering my gag reflex and almost choking myself in a coughing fit that followed. I let go just as fast. He chuckled but stroked my hair in a tender manner until I calmed down. 

“Open your throat, like you’re about to yawn, if you insist on doing that.” he said and I nodded, before attaching myself back onto him and taking his advice. I went slowly down bit by bit until my nose brushed his lower stomach. And up again and then down all the way. He didn’t let go of my curls and kept running through them as I did that. 

“There you go.” he praised, his voice filled with hot breath as the pleasure was nearing. And soon enough as I added one hand to help me, he tucked on my hair in case I’d like to pull away when the high overcame him. But I didn’t pull away. I wanted to taste him, all of him, just like he did yesterday. I wanted us to be even, to have something of his. I didn’t like the taste and I chased it with the water that sat there on the bedside table, just like we left it that morning. But still I’d do it again. I’d give anything to make his back rise from the mattress again as one hand fisted the sheets and the other one gripped my hair, while grunts and dirty words were released into the air of the room.It made all the nerves in my body respond, but I let him get comfortable on the bed and laid my head on his chest, while he stroked my arm rhythmically. 

“Give me a second and I’ll take care of that.” he motioned his head towards my wanting body with a smile, through his heavy breathing. But I didn’t much care for my own release as long as I had him near me, the post-high afterglow making him even more beautiful than ever. I kissed him and he kissed me back, letting his tongue roam my mouth. I ran a quizzical hand down his thigh, making his oversensitive cock twitch between his legs with just that faint touch. His long fingers wrapped around my thin wrist and placed my hand over his heart, where I could feel how hard it was pounding under my palm and felt so close to him, like he was letting me in on a secret. As I draped my leg over his, Oliver’s lips made contact with my forehead and even when he wasn’t kissing me he left them there as his fingers were tenderly scratching my scalp. I didn’t know what he was thinking about and I wished I could have a peek. Because this tenderness, even though it was always present felt somehow different. And his breath was still heavy but I doubted it was because he was still coming down from his high. Maybe it suddenly dawned on him, that this was our last night. And as my mind wandered into that forbidden territory, I felt tears prick my eyes. But I wouldn’t let them. Instead I lifted my head up and kissed him with all my might. I propped my leg on the other side of him and I was once again straddling him. He helped me out of my shorts and I resumed my position, mercilessly grabbing his dick to give my mind something else to think about. And I think he understood, because his lips too, kissed me like they never kissed me before. With all their pain and regret and longing and affection. He didn’t stop me or slow me down this time when I grabbed for him and made him enter my body which again was a bit harder than I expected. Oliver pulled me as close to him as the position allowed us and haven’t stopped kissing my lips for even a second as I was riding him up and down. He held my face by the sides like he was afraid I would get away somehow. And when I got tired he laid me down on the bed and continued what I started still pulling me into his chest and worshiping my face with his lips.I thought I knew what passion was by now, I thought I knew how this was done by now. But this moment proved me otherwise. I might’ve known what desire was, what pleasure and affection and tenderness looked like. But I haven’t truly experienced them until now. And as he finished and I followed right after, he collapsed on top of me and let me embrace him until a small sob escaped me and I hid my face in his shoulder. Don’t go. Please don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t… _Oh please God, just let me live in this moment a bit longer, please let the time stop and I’ll never ask for anything ever again._

But those wishes, as strong as they might’ve been were foolish. And so I let myself be embraced and put to bed, but like a spoiled child I wouldn’t go to sleep. I’d devoted myself to spending as much time with him as I could. As much as I loved sleeping in his arms, I wanted to savour the awake memories even more. So I’d kiss him and tease him, make him do it all again. And again. Then I’d let him speak of philosophy, of his favourite memories of the summer, of chamomile soap and apricot juice, of nights spent playing poker, of my parents and his new friends. But I wouldn’t let him speak of what will be. Because that would mean he would no longer be there by my side. I was glad he didn’t make me go to sleep after he let me use his toothbrush, because he too I think, wanted to make this night last forever. 

_The saddest thing in life is saying goodbye to someone you wish to spend your lifetime with._ I woke up early that morning, after maybe an hour of inevitable sleep that claimed me without my knowing it, with the whole of the world weighting me down already. I wanted to keep my tears at bay but I couldn’t. I could almost heart my heart breaking in my chest. As my eyes fluttered open, the first thing I saw was Oliver, wide awake, my head on his shoulder, his fingers delicately stroking my chest. His face lit up, but the smile haven’t quite reach his eyes. But I’d still start wars for that smile, I’d tear down entire cities just to make him smile at me. I’ve never seen his eyes so sad, so sad that they were almost cutting my heart right out of my chest. My eyes welled with tears. And as soon as he realized, his mouth again, was on mine savouring me for a moment longer. I scrambled for him like I never scrambled for anyone else, made him lay down flat on his back and climbed on top of him weighing him down with the whole of my body, trying to make him stay put. I let out a strangled cry and he stroked my back in an attempt to calm me down. But how could he when it was him that got me into this mess? When it was _him_ leaving? 

“I’m gonna take a shower, before we have to go.” he whispered, his voice smooth like honey running down my chin. I sat up reluctantly and let him get up, but I changed my mind in a few seconds and I followed him into the bathroom. I wouldn’t let him waste precious minutes alone in the shower now. The water was already running down his body when I opened the shower door and hugged him from behind, which at first startled him, because he didn’t hear me come in but then he relaxed into my touch. He turned around and enveloped me in his strong arms, sheltering me from the outside world. And I was save here in his arms. So save that my tears spilled over my eyelids and wetted my cheeks. At first it was a few but then I started weeping so hard my whole body was trembling and nothing could stop it. 

“Don’t go. Please don’t go.” I whispered into his chest where I hid my face again. I could lose fucking everything, but not you, oh God, not you. He hummed understandingly pulling me closer to him, hugging me tighter. Oliver took my face and turned it to him and kissed both of my closed eyes to kiss the tears away. 

“Take a deep breath and look at me.” he commanded tenderly. And I once again did as I was told. 

“I will never forget any of this.” he said and kissed my lips. Please don’t forget I begged him in my mind. Please just look at me one last time and call me by your name and I’ll call you by mine. 

He came. He left. And I was left there at the train station to my own devices. I was to take a bus back home. But I dreaded the journey, more than anything now. So I did the thing any child would do, when their heart is broken into a thousand pieces and they feel like they would never mend it again, when they are in so much physical pain that they feel like they can’t move. I called my mother to pick me up. And cried all the way home. I didn’t care if she knew. I didn’t have a care in the world right now, when Oliver was gone. Everything was useless, uninteresting, irrelevant. And he, just like all of the summer, was the only one that mattered. I hated the sound of gravel under the tires that reminded me of the first time he came to us. I hated the look of the pool we used to spent so much time in. I hated our dinning table sitting there outside the house so innocently, but cruelly making me remember all of the times I opened his soft boiled eggs for him. I hated the eggs and swore myself to never eating one again. And most of all I hated _our_ room. 

I found myself wondering was this all real? Or was it a video? Was a vision like the ones Gideon had of God? When he used to greet him like an old friend and then never saw him again? I came home and walked up the stairs, every movement of my body a chore. I opened the door to what became our room and started at it. Mafalda had already changed the sheets for fresh ones, which I cursed her for in my mind but was happy for eventually. And just like Oliver did that first day he arrived I plopped down on the bed, in his billowy shirt and all and went to sleep, for even though I hurt all over, or maybe because of that very pain I was exhausted. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +10 points to everyone who spots another sufjan stevens reference! <3 and happy reading to you all. I'll see you soon with another chapter! and thank you for the amazing feedback it really makes me write on haha <3

**Chapter 7**

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓 **_1988_** _,_ 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝑭𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆

**Elio POV**

The warm summer breeze tickling me on the face, coming from the open window, woke me up just a few minutes before my alarm went off. It wasn’t particularly early in the morning but my sleeping habits, or lack thereof rather, made me feel exhausted nonetheless. I stretched the sleep out of my limbs but that didn’t help, nor did yawning. The sun was too bright for my eyes’ liking as I stood up and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast and most importantly a cup of strong _espresso_. After that, I took a cold shower in hopes of it strengthening me for the two-hour drive before me. I was to meet my parents in about an hour at their hotel and drive us to the Pelletier wedding. Maxime was one of my father’s former students and he decided to have us all there on this beautiful summer’s day to watch him and his soon-to-be wife say their “Oui”. 

Did I hate weddings? No. Definitely not. But something about them always made me feel uneasy. Perhaps it was the feeling that that’s something I will never experience. Not because I didn’t want to. But because the world was a cruel place, refusing to understand that love is love, whether shared between a man and a woman or not. Maybe I was even a little _jealous_ of these people. How are my feelings less relevant than anyone else’s, especially when I feel them so deeply? And who’s to say that they are not to be felt? Well, but at least I could enjoy _le croquembouche_ today. 

I was glad that Maxime and Esmée decided to have us stay at the mansion, where the wedding was held, overnight. It was a beautiful getaway two hours south of Paris and I could enjoy the wedding festivities fully because I didn’t have to drive back until the next morning. The ceremony was held in the back yard, that was in full bloom thanks to the French summer. The sun was up and scorching and everything seemed to be in Mr And Mrs Pelletier’s favour. And despite me being absolutely drained, it was to be a beautiful day. And who knows, maybe French _campagne_ is exactly what I need to get a good night’s sleep. 

**Oliver POV**

_Paris._ I searched the word on the departure table at the airport.

“Gate 11” I turned to Micol who was looking through her bag. She looked up at hearing my voice, smiled and took my hand, gently squeezing it as she did, a habit of hers. 

We’ve been planning this trip for months. Micol always liked the way I talked about Europe and wanted to go there. And I desperately wanted back, but maybe not entirely for the right reasons. So here we were, five years later, about to board an almost eight-hour-long flight, going back. It felt bizarre. And I remembered the first time I boarded an international plane taking me to my first European adventure in Italy and my heart did a tiny little leap in my chest at the memory. 

But the main reason we decided to go on the trip was actually an invitation that landed in our mailbox a few months ago. 

“Maxime and Esmée are getting married in July!” Micol strode into the living room with that happy smile of hers and settled beside me on the couch, handing me the card. Maxime and Esmée were my friends from university and became Micol’s friends as well, maybe even more so. A few years ago though, they decided to bid goodbye to the US and moved back to France. 

“Well, I suppose I should take you to France as I promised. It’s the least I can do.” I smiled and kissed her temple. She smiled back at me and pecked my lips. 

“So what you’re saying is I should go out looking for a dress then?” Micol giggled. 

* * *

As we arrived I was in a foul mood, which in turn put Micol in a bad mood and we squabbled so much Micol forgot to look at the map and have me take a turn, which added a few minutes to us already being a little late. Turns out renting a car and driving in a foreign country isn’t as easy as it sounds. Everybody was already there as we arrived and we only had time to get changed before the ceremony commenced. We found two empty seats and settled before the groom was walked down the aisle by his wonderful mother. 

And even if both Maxime and Esmée were my friends I never was one to enjoy weddings, even more so when they were held in a language I didn’t quite understand, Sure French was similar to Italian, but not the same and I never really delved so far into Italian to know precisely what you say in a wedding ceremony apart from the gist of things. I studied the guests, tried to pick out the ones I knew, the ones I didn’t, Micol and Esmée’s friends who we’ll be spending the evening with I presumed. And then I saw it. Something I never thought I’d see again, but hoped and dreamed of it every single day if only subconsciously. I saw that head of chocolate coloured curls seated a few rows in front of me. I’d know those curls anywhere and I remembered all of the times I ran my hands through them. I instinctively squeezed Micol’s hand beside me and she squeezed it back, definitely not realizing why I did it and probably thinking it was my way of apologising for my distress. My heart skipped a beat, maybe a few and my world once again started and ended with those curls. As the newlyweds said their “I do” and everybody started cheering, I was dumbstruck and I couldn’t move. I caught myself in time though and started clapping as well as everyone around me. But I couldn’t care less about Mr and Mrs Pelletier. I didn’t know what to do now. Why haven’t I thought about it? Maxime did his master’s in Rome and he was the first one to mention professor Perlman’s program for PhD students to me. But I guess I didn’t think about anyone inviting their former professors to a wedding. I could’ve though because as I’ve learnt myself professor Perlman wasn’t just any professor and I guess he touched more lives than just mine alone. So much so that he and his family were actually here among the guests. What should I do now? Should I go over and disguise it as saying hi to his parents? Or should I avoid them altogether? When all I longed to do since I saw just the glimmer of his hair, was to get him alone, tell him how much I’ve missed him, how I hurt all over, how I couldn’t breath. People started leaving their places and I got a closer look at him as he and his parents walked right by our row, not noticing us, which I was glad for until I figure out my battle plan. His hair was longer, grazing his chin nicely. He hasn’t grown much, but his face looked slightly more mature, but still possessing the youthful charm it always had. He was wearing a dark green linen suit, making everyone around him know he was there and he wasn’t afraid of showing himself, just like he did back then. The top button of his white shirt was undone and the skin of his soft neck almost tempted me, made my breath hitch in my throat again. 

I decided then, that I would try to avoid them for Micol’s sake, there were a lot of people there that I can strike up a conversation with and hide behind. The Perlmans don’t even need to know I’m here. I’ll retire early blaming it on jet-lag, driving and champagne. I was already rude to her today and she didn’t deserve seeing me perplexed and flustered in Elio’s presence. My heart ached at the mention of his name. I never spoke of him. I usually didn’t even permit myself to think about him or his name and how it sounded as it left his lips. If I’m being honest, I never thought I’d see him again. I was scared of it. I was terrified of his scornful look for what I did to him, or maybe more scared still if he smiled at me. Because I knew that that smile will never be mine, out of my own volition. I was scared of him remembering everything but maybe more scared if he forgot. If I could have it though, if I could see him again, I’d meet him at the villa when we both lived out our lives and there was nothing left for us but one another. All I have to settle for now though is blending into the crowd and maybe stealing a few looks without anyone noticing. All I have left of him is the fact that for the next few hours we’ll breathe the same air and hear the same music. 

But my efforts were thwarted as I was helping myself to some food by the cold bar. 

“Oliver!” professor Permian’s sonorous voice reached my ears. 

“Professor!” I turned around with a smile, that wasn’t as fake as I thought it would be and shook his hand. 

“Il cowboy!” Annella opened her arms for me and I accepted the gesture. 

**Elio POV**

Even at 22, I was still the baby of the Perlman family and my father’s students always treated me as such even though I was closer in age to them than my parents. But I didn’t mind talking about my studies in New York. I didn’t mind telling them about the Parisian orchestra I was now a part of and was happy to hear they were excited to see me play in a bit. After another round of small talk, I decided to go find my parents, but what I saw when I finally found them knocked the air right out of my lungs. A tall, blond statuesque man stood with them. A man who’s curve of spine and neck I would know anywhere. _Oliver_. I felt a tremor run through me. Should I tear my eyes out now, before I see too much? Should I tear my arms out now? I wanna feel your touch. The first thought that came into my conscious mind was _“What if he excuses himself? And diminishes me into nothing as he has for the past five years?”_ It revoked a desire in me for him not to ignore me, like I was used to in his presence. I guess five years isn’t a long enough time to get over that. 

**Oliver POV**

I hoped to get away before it was too late. But I was so invested in conversation I didn’t realize who approached us without my knowing. I lifted my gaze in Elio’s direction at the last second. He looked like he’d seen a ghost, which I was, a ghost of his past I presume. He was an open book, never quite tried to hide his emotions. But this time after our eyes had met, I saw the screen close before him. He schooled his features into a pleasant smile and stood a bit taller before taking a step toward us. 

“Oliver,” he said _in lieu_ of hello and hugged me as if we were the best of friends. 

“Elio.” I half exhaled his name, recovering from the sudden closeness. I was glad his parents excused themselves, probably understanding that this was something we needed to be alone for. 

“Are you here with anyone?” I asked immediately because I couldn’t stand not knowing. 

“I don’t have anyone to bring if that’s what you’re asking,” he smirked mischievously. 

“I presume you’re here with her,” he said, avoiding the word wife or Micol’s name. I nodded. The way he said ‘ _her’_ was almost worst than if he used a curse word. It was overflowing with pain and I felt sucker-punched. 

There were no words to express how sorry I was for everything. There were no words to describe how happy I was to see him. No words in any language could ever portray the torment I was going through. So maybe this was it. This is what we’ve become. A pair of humans too far away, but too close to one another. Maybe this is how our great romance would end. We met at a wedding, shared a hug and went on our way. And just when I thought this couldn’t get any worse a woman’s hand touched my arm in a familiar way. 

**Elio POV**

“This is Micol.” He said before missing a beat. “My wife.” he finished that sentence with a hard swallow. The muscles working his jaw clenched and the gulp made his Adam’s apple bob and a rather explicit image flashed before my eyes. An image that definitely shouldn’t be flashing in front of my eyes when I’m meeting _his wife._

“Elio. Enchanté.” I replied and kissed her hand. She blushed as I did that. Oh sweet, sweet Micol, you shouldn’t be blushing. You have no idea where my mouth had been. A point I was very persistent in making. As my lips were leaving her hand, my eyes locked with Oliver’s, he understood and rolled them at me. 

“How do you two know each other?” she asked completely clueless. My eyes flicked from her to him with an accusatory glare and back to her again, where they remained what I hoped was neutral. 

“He did his thesis in Italy with my father,” I replied with a smile. I needed to remind myself to stay calm, for his sake. 

“Oh I’m so sorry I should have figured.” she giggled and took an embarrassed sip of her champagne. 

“No need. I’m sure his work with my father and Italy were far more important than I ever was. Although, I have to say he was my favourite of the students that stayed with my father. I don’t think I ever got so close with any of them” I tried to sound nonchalant, but my heart was already aching letting those words out. To her, they sounded absolutely normal, but Oliver could definitely decipher my accusation. They were calculated and a small part of me really wished she would crack the secret herself. I can’t say I was proud of it. But like always I couldn’t hold back. 

“Oh there’s Bart, I should go and say hi. You boys can manage alone?” She said suddenly as she spotted someone in the crowd. 

“Of course. I’ll take good care of him.” I put my hand over my heart and bowed the slightest bit, she squeezed my shoulder and made her way after the wedding goer, waving so he and his partner would spot her. “Like I always seem to do when he’s alone,” I whispered more to myself than anyone in particular. I took a step and stood beside him, watching the mass of moving bodies. 

“Whatever you’re doing, stop it,” he said through his barred teeth. I looked at him and beamed.

“Me? I’m not doing anything.” I smirked and looked away. He chuckled, shook his head and took a sip of his champagne. And as he sipped on the golden liquid his free hand found mine by my side and just barely laced our pinkies, like he did so many times before. It was chaste, barely there. We practised it so much those five years ago it became a special talent of ours, the art of subtlety, the art of not being seen in a room full of people, in a crowded street. And it was in these moments of tender and ridiculous nostalgia that I knew something inside me was still broken. That not even five years can mend my heart completely.

“Better?” he almost whispered. 

“Meh.” I played along to my impassiveness, which in all honestly, I was anything but impassive since I saw his stupid perfect face this morning. I unclasped our fingers to further make my case and waved to a familiar face who was waving at us from the dance floor. Even though, letting go of him was the last thing I wanted to do. 

This was…..awful. Everything about this situation was awful. I wanted him, just like I always did. I wanted all of him. But I couldn’t have him. And that might’ve been worse than never seeing him ever again. I longed for his touch, for his pinky intertwined with mine, for the texture of his skin, for the smell of his cologne, for the blue of his eyes, for his deep voice whispering in my ear. Having him this close, but not being able to let him know was soul-crushing. I felt like I was drowning. My lungs were filling with water and I couldn’t breathe. And he was pushing me further but was also the only one who could save me. Should I tear my heart out now? Everything I feel returns to you somehow. I caught sight of Micol’s dress in the crowd and my heart ached, being stabbed over and over again all day long. Tears prickled my eyes. I needed to get away. He was my Sun and I once again got myself into his orbit. But maybe I was a lone planet, made to live in the shadow, because his heat was hurting me, blistering me from the inside out. I took a shaky deep breath. I couldn’t stand being next to him. 

“Have a nice evening,” I said matter-of-factly before slithering in the crowd of the wriggling bodies. I got away, but my mind was screaming: _Find me, Oliver, find me and hold me and never let me go._ It took almost no time at all to find some of my father’s old students I could dance with and pretend to be fine. We were dancing and I thought I was out of the woods when Claudia, one of my father’s former students, pointed to my face with a horrified expression. My hand instinctively went to my nose, which was already gushing blood. _Of course, this would happen_. My heart swelled in my chest and wanted to come out of me any way it could. I excused myself, pinched my nose as to not get the blood on my shirt and everybody else in my proximity and ran off the dance floor into the mansion. I ran into a waiter as I was entering the house. 

“Excuse moi. Puis-je avoir de la glace, s’il vous plaît?” I asked pointing to my nose. 

“Bien sûr,” he replied and rushed to the kitchen. He was nice enough to wrap the pack of ice in a kitchen cloth before handing it to me. 

“Merci beaucoup.” I thanked him and leaned my head back pressing the ice to my face. I needed to find someplace quiet, someplace to just sit and get myself together. I was a mess. To my luck, there was a room nearby that looked unoccupied and also like nobody would look for me in here. 

It was lined with floor to ceiling shelves full of hundreds of books. A big leather couch and two armchairs sat on the old rug. Behind the seating area, there was a big mahogany desk. As I ran my fingers over the top of it I heard the door open and close. I turned around almost immediately, I was not in the mood to talk to anyone. But my heart did a happy leap as I saw Oliver’s familiar frame take a step closer to me. 

“You okay? I saw you run off. I’m just here to check.” he said and walked over the few steps so we were face to face. I was dumbfounded and nodded quietly, I took off the ice pack from my face and pointed to my nose again, to indicate it was bleeding. 

“Gimme,” he said and extended his hand for me to hand him the ice. He undid the carefully wrapped kitchen cloth and tossed the pack of ice into the bin before taking the cloth and carefully, tenderly almost cleaned the blood under my nose and over my top lip with unwavering focus. He looked at me as if this simple act uncovered the beauty that my face might’ve possessed in his eyes once.

“Good as new.” he half-smiled. I had to look away like I did so many times that day. I couldn’t bring myself to hold his gaze. 

“Have a nice evening? What was that?” he chuckled. And I had to chuckle with him, shrugging as well. That was a stupid thing to say, _I know, I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with anything better, I was breaking, hence the nosebleed._ This I didn’t say aloud though. He put his hands on my shoulders like he was smoothing my suit. He closed his eyes, sighing loudly. 

“Ah, Oliver,” Oliver whispered. “Why do you keep doing this to me?” he continued and I figured that question was aimed more at him than at me. I closed my eyes as he got closer. His lips touched my earlobe, but only faintly. He grazed them over my jawline, to my chin and down my neck, like he was fighting himself not to kiss me, but couldn’t resist the taste. 

“Oliver.” he exhaled just under my ear. 

“Elio,” I whispered playing along to our secret little game. He looked up at me and I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. We’ve been dancing around this like on the edge of a knife leaning back and forth, pushing and pulling like magnets. And I decided to jump over that edge when I kissed him. It felt like it always did like I could breathe again like I was at home. He was quick to follow, undoing the button on my jacket and snaking his hands around my waist pulling me closer. My fingers tangled in his hair yanking them lightly at the roots which always got him going. He wasted no time at picking me up and sitting me on that very desk I was admiring just a few short minutes ago. I’m sure I’d see the hunger in his eyes if I looked now and I wouldn’t fray. It was no longer tender, it was teeth clashing, lip biting ravenous. He grabbed me by the hips and I hooked my ankles under his thighs bringing him as close as I could. He broke the kiss and attacked my belt buckle.

“Stop, Oliver.” I pulled away breathing hard, from the sudden change of heart. “Oh, God.” I sighed and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms as if trying to push the tears that were already prickling them back into my skull. I unhooked my legs and sat farther away from him on the table, running my hand through my hair. 

“What’s wrong? You act like a sulking child out there and suddenly you don’t want me anymore?” he sounded hurt. 

“No. Not like this. I don’t want you like this.” I said and could almost hear my own heart breaking in my chest as I did. 

“Like what?” 

“Like this. Like a cheater. You know as well as I do, you don’t want to become that person either. And I’m not gonna be the reason you grow to hate yourself.” I spoke again and tried to avoid his gaze once more. He touched my chin between his pointer finger and his thumb and lifted my face up to make me look at him. 

“What do you want then?” he questioned with authority but never ceasing to be gentle. I didn’t answer. Instead, I said:

“You should go back to your wife. I’m sure she’s looking for you.” I nodded and salvaged the last moments of his touch on my skin. I would remember the feel of them on my face, I’m sure of it. I moved my head away curling my hand under my chin. Once again I found myself to be that teenage boy left at the train station to his own devices. I couldn’t watch him walk away from me again. Because if I did I’m not sure I would survive. I waited until I heard the door close, then I broke down into tears. 

I was sitting on that leather couch, with my head leaning back on the back cushion, my eyes closed and burning from all the crying when my dad found me moments later. 

“The wedding planner is looking for you. You’re about to go on stage.” he patted my knee. ”And let me tell you she’s one scary lady.” my father added to make me laugh the smallest bit. I nodded acknowledging that I’m on my way to perform, but I just need a few moments to collect myself from the sorry mess I was once again. 

“Are you not happy to see Oliver?” he asked gently as if just hearing his name would make me break down again, which in all honesty, it almost did. 

“I just…” I started but needed to take a breath because my voice was already breaking. 

“I always thought that if I see him again it would be different. That I won’t hurt all over like he left just yesterday. That I wouldn’t feel like his wife is stabbing my heart that she ripped out of my chest five years ago. I thought I’d be happy. I thought I’d be home and safe.” my eyes were already glassy again and I had to lie my head on my father’s shoulder and I just wanted him to shelter me from this cruel world and its even more cruel jokes that it was playing on me. My father understood and put his arm around me as if he was trying to stick my broken pieces back together. 

“ _Parce que c’était lui, parce c’était moi._ ” he echoed the words he once said to me to ease my pain. 

“You once said yourself that the two of you are like Ephesian Apoxyomenos statues. Two of the same found far away from each other. You can’t erase that in just five years. What are five years anyway? It’s a ripple in time, in the grand scheme of things. And maybe just like those statues, you need lifetimes apart to find each other again and be reunited.” he pecked the top of my head like I was a little kid. I nodded because he was right like he always was. 

“Come now, it’ll take your mind off things.” he squeezed my shoulder and then stood up and extended his arm for me to help me do the same. 

I found the wedding planner who was already scowling at me for disappearing without a trace just minutes before my performance. I promised the newlyweds, Mr. and Mrs Pelletier, to play at their wedding. As I was about to take the stage as the groom introduced me, the wedding planner pushed a white folder into my hands that contained my previously approved score sheet. I handed it back to her. 

“I don’t need this. I know this one by heart.” and I went on stage leaving her and her face that suddenly turned furious that I wasn’t following yet another one of her plans. 

“Merci Maxime et félicitations. C'est pour ceux qui sont très importants pour nous.” I said as the first tones of Bach’s _Capriccio in B flat major_ flew through the air. And I prayed, I hoped, I believed Oliver would recognise the music. And I knew that if he did, he’d understand that the cadenza was composed for him from the shards of my broken heart five years ago. And it wasn’t for all of those important to us. It was for him and _only him._ Because he was the only one that mattered. Always. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey loves! <3 thank you very much for the amazing feedback! here's another chapter for you! i hope you enjoy it! :)

I finished the piece, took a bow and left for my room. I couldn’t stay. My heart ached too much and my limbs were too weak to keep me upright. I hugged Maxime one more time before I excused myself and went on my way. 

The jacket was thrown onto the bed, the buttons of my shirt undone because I was suffocating under the weight of my own sadness and nostalgia. How many times I’ve dreamt he’d come back. How many times I’ve dreamt he would come back for  _ me _ ? But this wasn’t a French romantic novel. He didn’t come when I needed saving and now I needed saving because he was  _ here. _ I sighed, opened the fridge and took out a miniature bourbon bottle. I sat myself down in the armchair that decorated the corner of the room and took a gulp or two from the brass coloured liquid despite already being buzzed from the champagne. The alcohol burned my throat, but the physical pain was preferable to the ache I felt when images of Micol’s hand touching his arm so casually, flashed before my eyes. My eyes were flooded once more. I touched my fingers to my lips not sure if I was trying to make myself feel his on there or rather wiping the feeling off. The music and sounds from the backyard were dulled down and my brain once again started fabricating visions of Micol and Oliver dancing and laughing together. An apparition of something I will never experience again. And I was back there in Italy at seventeen, watching Oliver dancing with Chiara, my insides being contorted by jealousy. I needed another sip, to blur my vision.  _ Everything I felt always came back to him.  _ I felt like I was being twisted in every which way and torn in half at the same time, the feeling starting in my heart and radiating into the very tips of my fingers that were going numb by now. I wanted to scream, crawl out of my skin. 

A sudden knock put me out of my misery, but only momentarily. 

“It’s open,” I said as loud as my throat allowed after all the crying I’ve done, assuming it was one of my parents. But I was horribly mistaken as Oliver’s frame stood at the door. 

“I came to apologise,” he said from the doorframe, giving me the option to send him away if I didn’t want to hear it. I nodded and he closed the door behind him and took the few strides to sit on my bed. I could see the distress, a rare sight in Oliver. 

“I’m sorry to have upset you. I thought it was what you wanted.” _ it  _ referring to the kiss, I looked out of the window and then back at him.

“It was what I thought I wanted too,” I admitted. 

“What do you want then?” he asked. I shrugged because I didn’t know. I only knew what I told him already. I wouldn’t be the reason he grew to hate himself. I already knew what I was to him, a taste of liberty he was never going to embrace because he was scared and that wasn’t going to change. It didn’t change when we felt something for each other. Why would it change when we’re practically strangers? I looked away again, it got darker outside and the lights from downstairs painted nice shadows on the walls. Tears streamed down my face. But I was calm, I didn’t tremble and I didn’t wail, I just let them fall, with a mind of their own. Because maybe if I cried enough this yearning and sadness that always accompanied his presence would go away. 

“Can I hold you?” he asked from the bed, watching me like a hawk. Instead of answering I got up and placed both my knees on either side of him and sat myself in his lap. Because despite everything I wanted nothing more than to be held by him, to let him soothe me, to let him feel the tremors running through my body now. Because there was no one else in the world who would understand and there was no one else in the world who could ease my pain. It always started and ended with  _ him _ . His hand found a place to rest on the back of my neck and his other one around my waist under my undone shirt, while both of my arms were thrown around his neck tightly. And I let myself wail. I was once again reminded of how much I hated that he was gone.

“We should get you to sleep.” he said gentle almost like a parent scared for their child, after I found that calm once again. After he said those words I was again reminded of how much I didn’t want to let go. I nodded though and he helped me out of my clothes and under the sheets. 

“Can you stay until I fall asleep? I can’t watch you go.” I croaked, looking at him with my swollen bloodshot eyes. He nodded and lied down next to me encircling me in his arms until sleep claimed me. 

** Oliver POV **

I was surprised to see him fall asleep that quickly. Maybe the crying exhausted him enough to let him sleep for at least a few hours, I hoped. I lightly pecked his temple, not to disturb his slumber, he stirred but didn’t wake up. My heart ached, it felt like somebody was actually wrenching it out of my chest as I left the room, because I knew it may be one of the last times I’m ever going to see him. So much so, that almost felt physically sick. I had to rest my back on his door as I closed it and take a few steadying breaths before going to my room. I did that to you, didn’t I? I asked him in my head, just like I did after the first night we spent together and I saw him wince when he got on his bike. I did that to you, didn’t I? I did that to you, didn’t I?  _ The hurting _ . I did that to you, didn’t I?  _ The heartbreak.  _

I went to my room and was pleased to find that Micol was not there yet. I changed into my pyjamas, a different pair of boxers and a cotton T-shirt, and lied down on the covers with one hand under my head and the other on my stomach. I couldn’t shake the thought of him trembling in my arms tonight. Is this gonna be my last memory of him? Is it gonna outshine all the other ones? Like the one of him splashing the water around himself, while the sun hit his wet curls and kissed his back? 

Micol entered the room short after, not exactly plucking me out of my thoughts. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked. 

“Hm?” I suddenly noticed words were coming out of her mouth and felt  _ caught, _ even though she couldn’t see the imagines inside my head. But I should’ve been caught, because what happened tonight was unfair to her and I was well aware. I always kept that part of my life, that part of my person, private. And though I trusted her with my life, I felt like keeping it hidden was for the best. But even my good intentions didn’t take away the guilt I experienced, concealing that part of myself. 

“You said you were going to sleep, but you’re not. I’m just asking if you couldn’t sleep.” she smiled at me and joined me on the bed. Her friendly almost loving demeanour didn’t help to ease my feeling of culpability. I was sorry because I did love her, but that love was very different from what she deserved. She gave me all of her, those five years ago, but I was never good enough for her. Just like I was never good enough for Elio either, but with Micol I decided to unjustly take her down with me. 

“Yeah something like that.” I replied vaguely, not to raise any suspicion. And I really hoped this moment would pass and Micol would just ascribe it to one of my moods. 

“You know you can talk to me about it?” she said not letting it go like I hoped she would and it sounded more like a question than a suggestion. 

“No, I really can’t.” I smiled back her way. She was a saint. She deserved the world and I was never going to be able to give her that. 

“Why?” she turned to me, still beaming but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“Because it might change your idea of me. And I’m terrified of that.” I admitted out loud for the first time and stroked her exposed arm. 

“Or maybe it might finally explain some things about you I can’t quite put my finger on.” she put her hand on my thigh in a loving almost motherly way. It was the first time she actually voiced any inkling. I really thought I had her fooled, didn’t I? But she was a smart woman and some parts weren’t that hard to figure out even without any actual proof. Or maybe me never talking about certain moments of my life were proof enough. 

“What things?” I furrowed my brows in feign confusion, because maybe just maybe I could still save this and not hurt her too. I felt like maybe if I played my cards right, she would shake that suspicion off and forget about it. 

“Well, for starters, your summer in Italy. You came back changed. Your eyes were sort of empty.” she shrugged. She knew me better than anyone, of course she noticed these things. And at that moment something in me broke and I felt so guilty like I hadn’t in years and I needed her to know. 

“I knew somebody had to hurt you pretty bad for your eyes to lose that spark. And you and I both know you asked me to marry you because it was what you thought you should’ve done.” she continued.

“Then why did you agree to marry me?” I countered in disbelief. 

“Because it was what I thought I should’ve done. I thought I could change you, make you fall in love with me again and forget about her. But I learned soon enough I would never even come close to what you two had that summer. But I care about you Oliver, I really do. And we both know we’re more like best friends than a married couple anyway. We’ve been for a long time. So maybe it’s time for you to tell me what happened?” she finished. 

I took a deep breath, it was true. We haven’t done anything a married couple is supposed to for more than a year now. But I still had love for her, just not the kind she craved for. I cared about her and we understood each other. And I really thought I could make it work back then. I really thought I could. I was also settled on raising children with her. Now I was grateful we didn’t have any, because at least I could spare those little souls from the heartbreak. There was no point in lying now, she knew, she had to, she just got a few of the details wrong.

“Yes, I did fall in love in Italy those five years ago. And he was there tonight, Elio.” I had to look away mentioning his name. I could practically feel his frail frame shaking in my arms again. 

“Of course.” she chuckled.

“Of course?” I looked back at her and she was beaming. 

“Of course it was  _ him _ . How could I be so stupid? Your eyes found him immediately when he entered the yard and I could practically feel your heart skip the beat. I thought he just reminded you of that place. I just didn’t put two and two together. Or maybe I did and I just didn’t really want to see it.” she squeezed my hand and I squeezed it back. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” I started and my voice was already shaking. She put her tiny hands on both sides of my face and made me look at her, stroking her thumbs along my cheeks. 

“Oliver, going on like this, you’re hurting yourself. And despite everything, I love you. And seeing you this unhappy with me breaks my heart.” she said and I could see the tears already welling in her beautiful eyes. 

“I’m not unhappy Micol.” I shook my head. 

“Okay maybe not unhappy, but you’r somewhere in the middle, a vegetative state. Because I’m not him. And I’ll never be. And you’ll never look at me like that. I’ll never take your breath away like that. We had beautiful time together Oliver. And I’m the luckiest girl to call myself your wife. But I’d rather see you be the luckiest man with Elio.” she said as teardrops stained her cheeks and she pressed her lips hard on mine just one more time. 

** Elio POV **

I woke up, like I did almost every night these past few weeks, about two hours after I fell asleep. My head was throbbing with pain and my body felt heavy as I felt so weak. I turned over to my back. I couldn’t believe that Oliver was here, what seemed just moments ago. And now he was in his room, probably hugging his clueless wife, sleeping soundly. I couldn’t even cry anymore. My mind felt fuzzy like cotton. The sounds of music from downstairs could be heard along the laughter of the wedding goers. And I burnt all over for they were having the time of their life, dancing casually while I was disintegrating. So I did everything I always did when I found myself awake in the middle of the night. I closed my eyes and tried to force myself to fall back asleep. But just like always it didn’t work. I gave up trying and started looking all over the room to give my mind something to think about other than Oliver and his picture perfect lover. The curtains were drawn shut, which he probably did after I fell asleep because they were open when he was here. There was the empty mini bottle of bourbon I was responsible for. And then there was something I definitely didn’t bring in here a napkin of sorts. I got up and walked the few steps to examine it, because I had no idea how it got there. It was neatly folded in half. And once I undid it, I knew exactly where it came from. 

_ “Zwischen Immer und Nie, for you in silence, somewhere in France in the late eighties.”  _ it said. And just like I wanted him to ache in the years to come, when I wrote this almost exact quote in his copy of Stendhal’s Armance, I now ached myself. Because maybe this was what we were destined to be - somewhere in the middle, always. I lied back down on my bed, squeezing and hugging that napkin to my chest in a desperate attempt to keep him close to me for a little longer. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys, so just a note I know our boy Elio is very much bisexual, but I decided to make him gay for the purpose of this story. I hope you guys don't mind.   
> Also *TRIGGER WARNING* there are mentions of violent sexual encounters in this chapter, they are NOT GRAPHIC but I thought you should know. And also mentions of panic attacks (not graphic/no more detailed than the last chapter) but proceed with caution if you are triggered by that.   
> And also 10+ points to anyone who notices an almost direct quote from another Timmy movie :D   
> Happy reading and I'll see you soon!

I put my jacket over the chair’s backrest because I was burning up even though the philharmonic’s changing rooms were cold. I took off the bowtie and placed it on the table and pierced it for a few moments, as if I already knew, that when I lift my gaze up I won’t be pleased nor amused. I didn’t see the usual fuss of musicians getting out of their suits and into their summer clothes or putting their instruments that were not too heavy to be wheeled off by the crew, into their safe keeping cases. I saw a face that I only saw in my dreams. That I only let myself visit when I was unconscious and couldn’t help it. The noise other people in the room made disappeared. Everything disappeared except for that face.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as I looked Oliver in the eyes through the mirror. I couldn’t believe him. And most of all I couldn’t believe my parents that were in tow wearing their backstage passes. How could they betray me like this and let me meet him unprepared? Why was he still here. I claimed Paris. Paris was mine, he had no business here. But some part of me was thrilled to see him nonetheless. Some part of me needed to redeem our last meeting. I didn’t want to remember him like that.

“You know I never could take my eyes off you when you played. I’m only in Paris for a few days, I couldn’t miss it, could I.” he whispered only for me to hear. I pursed my lips, swallowed hard and looked down to my lap. I always was the person who wore their heart and all of their emotions on their sleeve. I prided myself in that. But I refused to let him see me now, to see the hurt in my eyes. To see how blistering his presence was, or how my hands trembled. _Take a deep breath Elio and look up,_ I told myself. And so I did with a smile and saw his eyes light up the way I longed for them to light up each time I saw him. I stood up from my chair and faced him. 

“Garçon d’or.” I said as I ruffled his golden hair, to seem nonchalant, non phased by his presence, like we were friends our whole life. _Golden boy,_ and in that simple name I told him without tellinghim or maybe even without him realizing it, that he indeed will always get what he wants one way or another. He always did. And no matter how much time passes between us, he will always be my vice. 

***

“Antoine.” I called for the bartender as me and Oliver approached the bar. 

“Elio, mon cher.” he greeted me back and leaned over the bar to kiss both my cheeks. I stole a glance at Oliver who acted like he wasn’t even a part of this and when my greeting with Antoine was over he half smiled and waved awkwardly, which was very different from his usual confident demeanour. Was he jealous? 

“Good concert tonight? You played well?” he asked in accented English, because he probably figured Oliver was not from around here, his Americanism exuding each and every way, making him look a bit out of place in Europe. But then again with his 6”5” he probably looked out of place at any crowded bar. So Antoine was nice enough to include him a conversation.

“He’s always great.” Something in Oliver shifted again and he was back to his self-assured self, making sure Antoine knew, that his presence wasn’t a one time thing. He wanted to assert that there was something there, that he didn’t just stumble into my concert for the first time in his life and taken a liking to me. He was definitely jealous. 

“Parfait.” Antoine winked my way before asking us what we wanted to drink. We both ordered whiskey and managed to find a relatively quiet spot by the back of the bar, to talk. 

“Is he a friend of yours?” Oliver said in an investigative tone, that wanted to sound nonchalant, but the strain in his voice and the fact he immediately hid behind his glass gave him a way. 

“Yeah, let’s call it that.” I smirked mischievously and also hid behind my glass, with my cheeks already tinted pink. Was I trying to make him jealous? Was I trying to make him feel what I felt when I met his wife and used poor oblivious Antoine to get back at him for spiking such emotions inside of me? Because I could’ve just as easily said yes. 

“If not a friend what then?” he questioned further. I spiked his interest. 

“Well, I guess you Americans would refer to it by a term ‘fuck-buddy’ or something along those lines.”I was grinning, watching him sip on his whiskey, trying to look composed and absolutely non-phased by my revelations. But some things don’t change, some things like the look in his eyes that proved to me he was alarmed by my statement, taken aback maybe, everything but calm and collected, like he wanted to look on the outside. 

“Did you have a lot of those?” he asked still trying to sound casual, holding his glass in one hand firmly, but he also started to turn the wedding band on his left hand with his thumb. A new habit, I thought, a new way for me to tell when he feels uncomfortable. And every look I stole at it was like a glass shard lodging into my heart, making it bleed all over again. I wanted to reach out and make him stop. It was like he was compelling me to look at it. _Look Elio, this is what I exchanged you for_. But instead of grabbing his palm, I clang to my glass a bit stronger to keep me grounded. It’s funny how you sometimes learn the person’s mannerism so well you know exactly what they’re feeling at any given moment. And then when you meet them again after a while, it’s like learning it all over again. Like you know these things are etched somewhere deep within your brain and it takes a few tries before you can read them again. But just like any subject, if you don’t study it for years, new things are discovered and considered facts by now and so you have to expand on your knowledge to still feel as a relevant scholar in the said discipline. It both pained me and delighted me that he had new habits. I was saddened by the fact that I was not there when they started, but I’ve always found myself fascinated by him, so I didn’t mind examining him again.

“I’ve had my fair share.” I shrugged, my own way of disguising I was nervous. I tried to sound like I was unbothered by the fact. But I also didn’t really want him to know. I wanted him to look at me now and still like me. He had a special way of turning me into nothing more than frustration and I still felt the undying need to be liked by him, to be something worthy in his eyes. 

“What’s a fair share?” he tested me once more.

“The truth.” I shrugged again and held his icy gaze, which my father used to call shy, when I found it outright hostile. 

“That’s a version of it. A very diluted version of it if you ask me, which I find you’ve become a master of by now?” And again, he clocked me out like he always did. Five years went by and he didn’t miss a single beat. 

“And you haven’t?” I retaliated, my question definitely stung and I was not proud of it. He had to notice my eyes flickering from his ring back to his eyes again, because he stopped fidgeting with it and took it out of my sight, placing it on his upper thigh, which brought me both relieve and pain. Because I was no longer the one privileged enough to graze the skin there and his wife was, even as an extension of that ring. These thighs were no longer mine, they were hers and it felt like being dragged through gravel. 

“Always so very wise.” he chuckled and took another gulp of the alcohol. “But yes, I suppose I have, too.” he admitted and he was again, my sweet, vulnerable Oliver from five years ago, the screen was off, even if just for a second and it was the most truthful and revealing sentence he told me tonight. 

“So what do you want me to say? What do you want to hear?”I returned back to the subject before he could ask something I didn’t know how to respond to. 

“I don’t know, just pick somewhere and start.” he shrugged and his eyes still didn’t leave mine, slowly undoing me, so much so that I could practically hear the cicadas chirping in the background, disturbing the jolly tone of the hit of that very hot summer and feel the sun scorching the back of my neck. It was the most Oliver advise he could give me. Just like _‘If not later, when?’_

“Well, I experimented quite a lot when I moved to New York.” again a very thinned version of the actual events of my first summer in the big city. A version specially tailored for him not to despise me or think less of me. Because his opinion always mattered above all else. Some things truly never change. And even though he was no longer a part of my present life, because he would always be a part of my general life, a catalyst of sorts, I valued what he thought of me even now. 

“You’ve always had a thing for that.” he chuckled and bumped his knee against mine under the table almost making it look like an accident. What he didn’t know was that the smallest of touches, even though, the clothes were separating us was like an electric current running through my body and heightening all of my senses all at once. I had to drink it away, but I guess he caught the fact that my pupils dilated, while my leg stayed put as if waiting for him to do it again, much like when he touched my shoulder that summer that I pinned for ever since. 

The truth was my experimenting was nowhere near close to what we did when I was seventeen. It was wildly different in fact. Because when I was with Oliver I wanted to experience him in every way and angle I could possibly think of or that he could think of. I knew already we were on borrowed time with our futures wholly uncertain. And I was determined to learn his every curve, to learn his every edge. To learn what he liked and what he liked the most and what made the pleasure coil and uncoil in his stomach. I wanted to learn how the muscles in his back rippled when he rode a bike or ate eggs in the morning. How he smelled when he woke up and when he went to sleep. I wanted to learn everything in barely a few weeks I had him for, that anyone who had him for a lifetime would. 

But me in New York was a much more colourful story. I arrived in New York, after my shortest stay in our villa, barely two weeks in June I spent there after I graduated. And when I was alone in the big city I grew frustrated and sick of how I lived my life up until that point. I was sick of feeling lonely. I was sick of feeling heart broken for almost a year. I was sick of never leaving the house and playing the piano every day, which at first always ended up with my head in either my mother’s or my father’s lap crying my eyes out until I finally fell asleep. I was sick of wearing sunglasses all the time to let everyone know that I was still in grieving of something that happened to me that summer. I was sick of keeping up my bravado of a mistreated artist, who I never truly was thanks to my wonderful parents and I was sick of it coming undone every time I came home and abused the piano in our living room. And I was sick of the overflowing ashtray that was just casually sat on top of the instrument, the smell and taste of Gauloises cigarets offending me every time I put one between my lips. And so I started exchanging my emotional pain for physical pain and shame. I let strangers have their way with me in the bathroom stalls of the clubs I didn’t remember the names of. I didn’t care I was hurting physically, because everything was better than the heartache that ripped my chest in half every day. I didn’t care for the bruises that sometimes covered my wrists or hips when the intruders got a bit too rough with me, just like I encouraged them to. I didn’t feel worthy of love, of being treated nicely anymore, because it didn’t get me anywhere the last time. But I was deeply ashamed nonetheless. So ashamed that I couldn’t look my mother and father in the eyes for a long time after it had stopped. I couldn’t even look myself in the eyes in the morning. And as the epidemic spread across New York like wildfire and I grew tired of meaningless encounters I tried to find my sense of self-worth again. I started going on dates rather than meeting strangers, because this way I was in much needed control. The first time I found a connection with a guy worth of letting him come close to me I ended up sobbing into his pillow in a panicked fit that he was gonna hurt me. He was nice enough to scratch my scalp until I calmed down and promised me he would never do anything to hurt me. His name was Alexander. And Alexander became and still is one of my closest friends. He made me tell him everything from the weeks falling in love under the Italian sun, until my promiscuous first weeks in New York leading me to this very point in time. And he nursed me back to health by Christmas. He helped me put my heart back together slowly and properly and cut short my efforts to fix broken bones with Band-Aids plastered all over haphazardly. I refrained from relationships for a while, at least the romantic ones, and instead focused on my music. It was just a few weeks that I let myself go and become someone I hated. Someone Oliver would hate, maybe to give him a reason for leaving other than the fact that I wasn’t enough for him. It was just a few weeks, but much like the few weeks I could call Oliver mine, it shaped me. I needed to stop being me to start being myself in the most unapologetic way I knew how. 

“I suppose.” I rolled my eyes anyway, because the thought of him knowing what I’d done made my stomach turn and the shame rise in a way of bile burning my throat from the inside. 

“Boys? Girls?” he smirked around his almost empty glass. 

“Men.” I said just to spite him and it made us both laughed. 

“That’s very brave.” he put the glass down on the table and balanced it on its edges before letting it sit flat on its bottom. 

“It wasn’t brave. It was arrogant and I was just lucky.” my voice reached an unknown edge as I referred to the epidemic that took some of the lives I was a part of, soon before it was their time to go. He nodded knowingly and I was glad he sensed I didn’t wanna talk about it.

“So just fuck-buddies?” he used my choice of term in a bit of a mocking way. I didn’t really know if he was asking me because he was making conversation or if he was truly interested. I wouldn’t have the courage to ask him that if it was the other way around. My fragile heart couldn’t have taken it. 

“No, not just fuck-buddies. I had a boyfriend for almost a year.” I smiled at the memory of Leo, with whom I bonded over the fact that we were both at least half Italian. 

“What happened?” Oliver didn’t relent still. 

“We wanted different things. I guess I broke his heart.” I admitted not too proud of it. 

After our second round of drinks, we finally moved on from debating my love life to more neutral grounds. He told me about teaching in New Haven. Who he have met, what had he written or collaborated on. Where he vacationed, consciously leaving his wife out of every anecdote he told, which I guess took a great deal of effort. And I was grateful he was so mindful of my heart now. We slowly moved on from his life to even more of a grey area - politics, philosophy, literature. Something we both felt comfortable discussing.But my heart may have ached even more at that. Because in the five years apart, even though I made great friends, I’ve never found a connection quite like ours. I never found someone who understood what I was saying quite like he did. Or who actually had an opinion about all of those things we bonded over that summer. Who wasn’t just hanging on my every word, not fully understanding what I was on about when I was exhilarated about romantic novels or a particular piece of music or a fragment of philosophy that suddenly made sense of my being at the time. I found pieces of that in each of my friends or a boyfriend, but never just one fully realised person to have knowledge and/or thoughts on all. We had a different type of dynamic apart from just our mutual desire of each other’s body at the time. And like my father said to me one time I was too smart not to know how special and rare what we had was. But sitting here right now, reigniting our intellectual attachment was a bit too painful. I was almost starting to be sure that my wounds were just scars by now. However, his presence only proved me otherwise. He cut them open again and if that wasn’t enough he poured salt in them without a care in the world. And I hurt all over because at that moment I once again realised that I would never find what I had with him, with anyone else. Because nobody would ever come close to my Oliver. But my Oliver was joined with another in the sight of God, which I would never have the luxury of experiencing, out of my own volition and all I could do was to get used to that, dull the pain and act like I was fine. 

As we exited the bar he produced a pack of cigarets from the inside of his jacket and lit one before offering me one that I politely declined, because I no longer smoked. 

“Can I walk you home?” he asked sheepishly, his voice almost hushed. I nodded. It was just down the street but I wanted to hold onto the little blips of time he offered me before he disappeared again. We fell into silence as we walked in time with one another. For us it was like breathing, even after all this time. Both our hands, apart from the one he was holding his cigarette with, were in our trouser pockets, my left and his right arm brushing on accident as we walked, sending jolts down my spine. 

“Au revoir, Oliver.” I said as we reached my door. I wasn’t expecting him crashing his body into mine and hugging me into his chest, it almost knocked the air out of my lungs. But I was happy he did anyway. I was home again. I smelled Mafalda’s chamomile soap, that he definitely wasn’t using and his own scent that I’ve forgotten over the years but it took me right back. And I was ecstatic, that at least this hasn’t changed.I dared to look up at him and caught him already looking. And in the split of a second his mouth was on mine again. I pulled away immediately not humouring him for another second of this. 

“You should go.” I was nodding my head and panting, because this did actually took the breath right out of me. And I needed him to leave before he saw me crying again.

“God you’re being impossible.” he sighed and rubbed my arms. 

“I know. But I need you to leave, for reasons I’ve already told you and I can’t tell you again.” I blinked the tears away at the thought of his wife sleeping of her headache just a few streets away, not more than a twenty minute walk from here. 

“Elio, I’m…” he started to say but I cut him off before he could get to the point. 

“No, Oliver, nothing you say can justify this. Please go.” I pushed him at my arms length, looking at the tips of my shoes already because my eyes were getting redder and glassier by the second. His shoulders slumped and he took a step back. He started to walk away and did a turn that was almost dance like to talk to me again.

“Elio!” he called out to me and the way he said my name made all the cells in my body vibrate.

“Can I take you out for dinner tomorrow?” he asked ever so confidently. 

“Promise to bring Micol and I might consider it.” I smiled in his direction. He smiled back nodding at me, my favourite smile, when he got something he wanted. 

“Now go before I change my mind.” I chuckled and rubbed the tears away from my right eye. 

“Later!” he called into the night already not facing me. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you again for amazing feedback on the last chapter! I was very scared to post that one because it's where I think I took the most creative liberty when it came to the characters. But I'm very glad you liked it!   
> In this chapter there's a bit that I wanted to write in French but a) my French is A1 level so yeah and b) it wouldn't be enjoyable for you if you don't speak French so I decided to write those bits in cursive to indicate that it's suppose to be in French in my mind hahaha. Okay I really hope you enjoy this chapter because there's a bit of a surprise for you at the end ;) And for those of you asking, yes I'm continuing this story I already have the next chapter almost finished and the next few of them thought out :) So yeah lots of love and keep safe! <3

I met my parents for coffee in the afternoon, it was my parents’ last full day in Paris before they went back to the villa tomorrow. 

“Oliver told me you’re having dinner tonight.” my father started and took a drag of his cigarette. 

“Oh, he did?” I smiled but I wasn’t happy about it. How does he just go around telling people that, when I haven’t even agreed to it yet? He and my father met up for breakfast because Oliver wanted him to look over a few pages he was writing for a magazine and he always valued my father’s input, he told me this yesterday. 

“Je n'avais pas l'intention d'aller” I wasn’t planning on going I said and took a gulp of my too-hot coffee. 

“Did you not have a nice time yesterday?” my mother asked as she rid a cigarette end of excess ash. I sighed and let my head fall backwards.

“Yes. No.” I said not really sure. Because one part of me was the happiest person alive being in his presence again because he would always be my home, my harbour, my first, my everything but the other one felt like being burnt alive perhaps because of him being all that. And then there’s that constant nagging of his to let him back in. Which I would love to, but I refuse to be the reason he cheats on his wife. I lifted my head and took the lit cigarette from my father’s hand and took a pull before releasing the smoke out of the side of my mouth, bobbing the foot of my right leg rested upon my left vigorously as I did so. 

“We sort of had a disagreement over something.” I looked at my dad. He smiled at me sympathetically as if he knew somehow. 

“Elly-belly,” he called me by my childhood nickname and squeezed my shoulder. I took another drag of the cigarette, before letting the ash fall off into the ashtray.

“Is that how you want to remember him?” he asked. I rested my cheek on my free hand on the table, looking at him, mulling the thought over in my head. 

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t remember him at all. But I do. I remember everything.” my eyes were welling up again. In all honesty, I never wished not to remember him. But his presence, unannounced and once again ruling over my whole life, my whole being was blistering. I was exhausted for not having a proper sleep in weeks and my entire body hurt and I just wanted to sleep and wake up when this was all over.

But my father was right like he always was, so when Oliver called later in the afternoon to arrange the details for the dinner I agreed to meet him. And I prayed that since his wife will be there, tearing at my heartstrings still, he will behave himself. And just maybe we can put this behind us and pretend for just one evening that we can be friends. After that, I’ll never see him again, because it would be too painful to watch him love someone else and raise children and grow old with them. It’s too painful to watch him now anyway. But I want to remember him happy and smiling. I don’t want to remember him any other way. 

So I got dressed in jeans and a simple white button-up shirt, with the shirtsleeves rolled up to my elbows and trudged myself over to their hotel. They were waiting for me at the lobby, his hand resting at the small of Micol’s back sent a pang of jealousy straight to my heart. But as soon as she looked my way I smiled at her, concealing whatever it was I was feeling at that second. Because I too would behave myself tonight. 

“Elio!” she exclaimed as soon as she saw me, but the smile hasn’t quite reached her eyes. That’s a little odd, I thought. Was it still that obvious I was pining for him? 

“Bonjour.” I greeted them both the French way, kissing them on both cheeks and tried to remain neutral as I got close to Oliver and smelled a waft of cigarettes and his own scent. 

We were to dine at their hotel’s restaurant because they said the food was amazing and I didn’t particularly care for a restaurant. All I wanted was to have just a little more time with him before I wipe him out of my life again. I wanted to redeem him in my mind after last night. I didn’t want to remember him trying to kiss me and me denying him doing so. I didn’t want to remember us fighting. 

“Docteur, votre table est prête.” the waiter at the door said and showed us to our table. I had to snigger at that. 

“What’s so funny?” he asked as we walked to the table, Micol’s hand in his as I observed, my eyes darting away as soon as his voice reached my ears. 

“Nothing. But should I really refer to you as a ‘doctor’ now?” I couldn’t help the mockery in my voice. 

“Oh, he’s very adamant about that.” Micol caught onto my joke, while Oliver rolled his eyes at us. 

“The wedding was beautiful, wasn’t it?” she asked as soon as we sat down. 

“It really was.” I nodded, trying to remember the venue or a particular piece of decoration, or something I could point out to carry on the conversation. But my mind came up blank. The only thing I remembered was the library and Oliver’s lips on mine and how I sent him away. My breath almost hitched in my throat. I didn’t know if he sensed it and wanted to come to my rescue or just wanted to make conversation:

“I think you French people have a way more laissez-faire attitude towards these things,” he said pronouncing laissez-fair more like lesay fair, the American way. 

“Laissez-faire.” I corrected with a sly smile. Maybe this dinner wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe we can for few hours pretend that we’re just a pair of old friends, joking with each other nonchalantly. Maybe I can remember only the good parts. 

“Bless you.” he winked in my direction and took a sip of water that was already on the table. 

“No. it’s pronounced laissez-faire, the French way, the right way.” I countered and as he was just about to say something else Micol interrupted. 

“Don’t even bother. I’ve been trying to teach him for years.” she giggled, but that giggle pierced my ears like the most shrill voice of the sirens. My body went stiff, for years, she said. For all of the years, you lost Elio. For all of the years, you knew next to nothing about. For all of the years, they built their life together. For all of the years, she woke up and went to sleep next to him. I gulped hard and tried to summon the strength to speak again. 

“Vous parlez français ? Je n'en avais pas idée.” I asked to look like I was unmoved. 

“Un peu.” she blushed and took a sip of the water as well. 

“And Greek and Latin,” Oliver said almost as if he didn’t care, because he didn’t even look up at us from behind the menu. 

“Well I don’t know about Latin, but I’m trying,” Micol replied with a kind smile and her hand found Oliver’s on the table. I’ve learnt a long time ago that it’s true what they say, nothing does break like a heart. But I really didn’t need to be reminded of that.

“I’m sure you’re just being humble. Of course, you’re more than just trying. I bet you’re perfect. As I know Oliver, he wouldn’t settle for less.” I smiled her way and then hid my face behind that big glass of water they both used as a diversion before.

Throughout the evening I couldn’t help but watch her a bit too closely for my liking. But this is who Oliver exchanged me for. Of course, I would watch her every move if the opportunity presented itself. Was I a masochist? I guess there wasn’t a doubt about that because I did in fact voluntarily agree to this dinner. In fact, it was my idea for him to bring her because I didn’t trust him or myself to hold back if she wasn’t here. Did he like the way she talked? Or the things she talked about? How she was smarter than me or maybe I was a bit too smart for his liking? Or was it the twinkle of her eyes or the perfect slant of her nose? The beautiful curve of her mouth or the blond of her hair? The way she looked like an ethereal being? She was so perfect she didn’t even look real. My heart ached. If he exchanged me for someone I didn’t like, or someone who was uninteresting, I could still feel better about myself when I left. But he didn’t. He exchanged me for a picture-perfect wife, who was better than me in every aspect of her being. She was kind and funny and smart and beautiful. And she could give him things I never could have. He was right to pick her over me and that realisation was like crawling through a barbed wire fence and out the other side of my life hopefully. That is if I don’t bleed out and die. Because every time she spoke, it was like the barbed wire was pulled tighter around my body and I couldn’t move. And he watched her with such adoration in his eyes I thought I would never come out of this alive. 

Suddenly though as we were having wine, after the meal was cleared off the table, his foot found mine under the table and rested there over the fabric of my espadrille. I indulged in the contact for a few seconds before I pulled away. My world was diminished to that smallest of contacts he offered me. But I couldn’t do this to him, to her or myself. Our eyes met and he smiled as if to say Why are you being so difficult? We’re just having fun. I shook my head only slightly so Micol wouldn’t notice while she was on about something I stopped paying attention to as soon as his foot touched mine. He rolled his eyes and took a sip of his wine to disguise his expression. My world was crumbling again. His foot found my other one and I was much quicker this time to withdraw and flash him a warning glance over my glass. Micol excused herself and I turned to him as soon as she was out of earshot.

“Please don’t do this,” I said and as soon as I saw him take a breath in, I interrupted.

“We’ve been good and I want to be good. So stop please.” I pleaded and it sounded way more desperate than I wanted it to thanks to the strain in my voice. But was he going to stop or was he just going to ignore my anguished pleas just like he did the ones asking him to stay all those years ago? He exhaled audibly and rolled his eyes again. 

“Elio,…” he started with a smile and reached for my hand on the table, with his left hand that bore his wedding band, but I pulled away before he could take it. 

“Don’t Oliver. Please don’t do this.” I was shaking my head and had to take a sip of my wine to calm myself down and swallow all of the tears that prickled my eyes again. I really can’t cry now. And not just because I was embarrassed, but also because it would be too hard to explain when Micol comes back to the table.

“Do you not like me anymore?” he asked blatantly and it almost made me spit out my drink. 

“Do I not like you, Oliver? I worship you. That’s why we can’t do this. Any of this.” I turned to him, my heart on my sleeve. 

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” he took my hand in his under the table, because I was too slow to move it away. I was once again at a loss for words. I was 17 again and turned into nothing more than desperation. Desperation for him to be mine, but I knew that wasn’t possible. Desperation for him to stop this, to stop toying with me and making me believe that any of this was real. 

“Oliver,…” I breathed out and squeezed his hand because despite everything it felt so right in his. I knew my next sentence was going to sting but I couldn’t stop myself before saying:

“I’ve had enough of straight, married men fucking me out of their confusion. I can’t do this. I really thought I could. But I can’t.” I shook my head and stood up. He started to say something but I cut him off. 

“Adieu, Oliver.” I squeezed his hand one last time and made my way out of the restaurant, shaking violently and trying to catch my breath. I really thought I would break into tears once I left, but my body refused to cry. 

I could almost hear my heartbreaking in my chest again. I couldn’t go home alone again. I needed something or someone to take my mind of him, to numb the pain. And there was only place where I could get both. And a walk would do me good anyway. 

“Tu ressembles à l’enfer.” Antoine said in lieu of hello when he saw me walk in through the door. 

“Je me sens comme ça.” I replied as I sat myself down on the only free stool by the bar. He poured me a glass of whiskey without asking and the burn felt good on my insides. 

“ _Does it have something to do with the American?_ ” he asked in French. 

“ _Everything has to do with him._ ” I took a gulp of the alcohol again, wiped my mouth with the side of my hand and he poured me another. 

By the end of Antoine’s shift, at around midnight, when the last of the patrons left I was definitely buzzed. I helped him put the chairs on the tabletops and sat on the bar, rolling Antoine a cigarette, while he cleaned the floor. Yes, he was one of those people who rolled their cigarettes. 

“ _I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smoke._ ” he smiled at me as I lit it, using his lighter. He came close and rounded his lips asking for a drag of it, I held it between my fingers for him and then proceeded to put it between my lips. 

“ _There’s a lot you don’t know about me._ ” I breathed out the smoke. 

“ _So tell me what’s the deal with your American?_ ” he walked behind the bar to start closing up for the day. 

“ _I was seventeen when we met. He was my father’s student in Italy, you know I’ve told you about the programme. And there was something rare and special between us. Or so I thought._ ” I rolled my eyes and took another pull after letting the ash off into the ashtray beside me. 

“ _He was your first…_ ” he considered the next word in a slight pause. “ _….lover?_ ” he finished.

“ _He was my first everything._ ” I let my head fall back and was overcome by nostalgia for our summer. For the first time, I understood that I liked men, for the first night we spent together, for the first shower I took with someone and for the first time someone washed my hair, for the first time I got really drunk, for the first time I had to say goodbye to someone. And I knew that if I could turn back time, I would go through it all again, through the longing and the hurt and the heartbreak, just to relive those few weeks one more time. 

_“But he got married, just a few months after that. So I guess I wasn’t all that special._ ” I shrugged with a mocking smile and started rolling another cigarette just to give my hands something to do. 

Antoine rested his forearms on the bar next to me. 

“ _Well Elio, don’t let anyone ever tell you that_.” he nuzzled his head against my arm. I smiled down at him, took his chin between my thumb and pointer finger and lifted his head up so I could kiss him on the lips. This wasn’t a rare occurrence between us. It didn’t feel weird or wrong or out of place. It was the way we worked, not entirely friends but close enough and not entirely partners but close enough. 

“ _What does he want with you now?_ ” he asked when I pulled away to light the sorry excuse for a cigarette between my fingers that we both laughed at. 

“ _I wish I’d know. He’s in town with his wife, but he keeps trying to…._ ” I trailed of breathing in the smoke from the cigarette because in all honesty, I didn’t know how to finish that sentence. What was he trying to accomplish? Was he trying to prove to himself that he still had what once made me yearn for him? Was it a reflex because he didn’t know how to act around me? Or was he just bored and having fun like he did that summer? 

I was grateful Antoine wanted to spend the night. I knew I probably wouldn't sleep for more than two hours at best. But I was glad he wanted to keep me company and do everything in his power to take my mind of Oliver at least for a bit. 

He hugged me from behind as I was locking up and started to kiss my neck, sparking my desire. I smiled to myself and let my hand roam behind me and caress his short hair. He knew this place like his own by now but I took him by the hand and led him into my bedroom anyway. I sat down on the bed started undoing the buttons on my shirt hastily while he took off his clothes standing up. I propped myself on my elbows and let Antoine kiss me on the mouth, down my jaw and my neck to my chest and down my stomach before he took off my underwear and dipped down to swallow me whole. My mouth was agape and my breathing was heavy. How many times did me and Oliver did this that summer? How many years has it been that we haven’t? A sudden chill went through me and I had to push Antoine lightly off of me and I rubbed my eyes with my pointer finger and my thumb. I collapsed on the bed nearly breathless.

“ _Did I do something wrong?_ ” his eyes were alarmed when he came up to level with me. I shook my head. 

“ _No. You’re perfect. Sorry, I just…I can’t do this tonight. I’m sorry_.” I kissed the side of his face sloppily. He lied down next to me and pulled me into his chest, with my head resting on his shoulder. 

“ _Are you angry with me?_ ” I asked into the silence after a while. 

“ _No. Of course not._ ” he simply reassured me and held me a bit tighter to him before letting me fall asleep. 

I woke up at the break of dawn. I guess my body was too tired to stay awake all night like it has for weeks. It was raining heavily and the sound of raindrops on the roof made for a melancholic atmosphere that only enforced my mood. Antoine stirred but didn’t wake up as I went to the kitchen to make some breakfast, because my stomach was already growling and it was also the least I could do for him after keeping me company last night. 

I drove my parents to the airport in the late afternoon. I was glad for the distraction and hated the thought of going back to the empty flat. They didn’t ask about last night, because like always they were already two steps ahead of me. And my face probably spoke volumes, like it always did. I wished I could hop on that plane with them and leave for Italy with them, away from everything once again. 

I came home and stood at the door for a long time apprehensive to walk in, but I had nowhere else to go. If it wasn’t raining I’d probably go for a walk, but I had no other option besides my home right now. And I made myself a promise at that door. I would let myself grieve today, but come tomorrow I’d built myself up again. I put on some dry clothes and sat behind my grand piano dans le salon, pouring my heart out in the music. My neighbours had to be very happy about having a pianist live in their building. But at least I wasn’t playing at night like I usually did. I bought myself a packet of cigarettes on my way home and smoked nearly half of it already, resting the ashtray on top of the instrument like I used to. 

There was a knock at the door and I assumed it would be one of the neighbours complaining that their baby can’t sleep because of me playing the damn music or that the music is maybe too bleak. I opened the door braced for impact. But even that couldn’t’ve prepared me for seeing soaked Oliver at my door. My heart skipped a beat or twenty. Neither of us said anything for a few seconds.

“Can I come in?” he said shaking, drops falling from his hair onto his forehead and got stuck in his eyebrows. I didn’t know what to say. But acting like on autopilot I stepped aside to let him in.

I walked over to the living room pulling at my bottom lip, shaking. He followed me leaving a wet trail behind him as he did. 

“What do you want?” I croaked, my voice already breaking again, with my back to him. 

“I came to talk to you,” he said his voice low. 

“I can’t fucking do this Oliver. I’ve told you and my mind’s pretty…..” I started to say as I turned around. I needed him to go and to go now. 

“I’m….” 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 thank you guys for the amazing feed back! I love you and I hope you'll love this chapter! I know my posting schedule is wack and I'm sorry. But I've been writing this chapter for quite some time now hehe and I wanted to give you it as soon as it was ready!

There was a knock at the door and I assumed it would be one of the neighbours complaining that their baby can’t sleep because of me playing the damn music or that the music is maybe too bleak. I opened the door, braced for impact. But even that couldn’t’ve prepared me for seeing soaked Oliver at my door. My heart skipped a beat or twenty. Neither of us said anything for a few seconds.

“Can I come in?” he said shaking, drops falling from his hair onto his forehead and got stuck in his eyebrows. I didn’t know what to say. But acting like on autopilot, I stepped aside to let him in.

I walked over to the living room pulling at my bottom lip, shaking. He followed me leaving a wet trail behind him as he did. 

“What do you want?” I croaked, my voice already breaking again, with my back to him. 

“I came to talk to you,” he said his voice low. 

“I can’t fucking do this Oliver. I’ve told you and my mind’s pretty…..” I started to say as I turned around. I needed him to go and to go now. 

“I’m leaving Micol.” he cut me off abruptly and I could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. 

“Why are you telling me this now?” I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what he was saying. His voice suddenly felt distant and time stopped and the Earth stood still for a second. 

“Because I thought you should know,” he repeated my words from five years ago, that were dropped by the Piave memorial and changed both of us forever. My world started spinning again. It was like being pulled from underwater, I had to take a deep breath. 

“Because you thought I should know?” I echoed just like he did those five years ago. 

“Because I wanted you to know.” he retaliated with the same words I once have. 

“When did it happen?” I blinked again, dumbfounded. I haven’t made a move. I didn’t know how to make my body work. A storm started outside and a rumble of thunder sounding from the outside made me jump on reflex.

“I think it was in the works from the start. On both our minds for quite some time and we made it official the day of the Pelletier wedding.” He replied, calm. 

“Poetic.” I rolled my eyes. “Still though, why are you telling me this now? You’ve had plenty of chances to let me know if you so wanted to.” Suddenly I came back to myself and I crossed my arms on my chest and bit the inside of my cheek. Despite what he just told me, I was angry. So angry I wanted to bang my fists against his chest and scream. My heart was beating so fast I thought it was going to give out. The room was momentarily lighted up by lightning and the thunder that followed no longer startled me. 

“Because Elio…” he said taking a step towards me and clasped my shoulders as if trying to stick me back together when I was broken. “…you never fucking let me talk.” he chuckled and I thought back to every encounter we had over the past few days and indeed I always shut him up and send him on his way without listening to any of his reasons. Tears filled my eyes and I let out a frustrated grunt hitting him in the chest over and over in a desperate fit of tears until he hugged me to himself and his body subsided the tremors of my own. 

“Why? Why did you do it?” I screamed into his chest, hiding my face in it, finding comfort there in his scent and warmth despite his wet cold clothes. Lightning struck, bathing the room in pale blue light. 

“Why did I do what?” he lifted my face up to make me look at him, he looked confused. 

“Why did you leave me? What did I do wrong?” I rasped just above a whisper. He let go of me with a sigh and ran his hands through his hair.

“Because I cared too much for you. I wanted you to have a good life. where I would fade into the background of the string of your lovers and I would only be the one that you discovered this part of you with, because I made you feel safe. I wished and I prayed it would be just a teenage infatuation. What I was missing was the fact that you were not like other teenagers at 17. And you loved me the way everybody wants to be loved, completely and without a doubt in your mind. I wanted you to have a life you always dreamed of.” He said and I never saw his eyes this sad before. The thunder sounded far away now almost inaudible. 

“And what is this life I so dreamed of?” I countered because his words still upset me. 

“A life where I could love you fiercely and didn’t condemn you to live it out in secret when you had your whole life before you. Where you could decide to be anyone.” He took a step toward me again as the room light up blue from the outside. 

“So you decided to live out yours a lie then?” I tested him and was ashamed of it the second it left my lips. He smiled letting me know that he indeed didn’t consider it a lie but a necessity and in turn the right decision at the time. 

“The only life I cared about was the one with you in it,” I said with my brows furrowed and my hands crossed at my chest again. 

“Believe me when I say I would have loved to bring my 17-year-old boyfriend with me to the States and tend to his every need, but it just wasn’t possible. I couldn’t have done that to you.” 

“But you made that choice for me anyway and that was unfair.” 

“Always so very wise.” He repeated his phrase from a couple of days ago. I jutted out my chin like a sulking teenager again. Wind and rain rattled the windows as thunder blared sounding closer again. 

“I wish I had your courage, to live as you do. I wish I had parents like yours who would accept me for who I really am and wouldn’t ship me right off into a correctional facility, where they would rewire me to be the right way.” He clasped my shoulder again, I didn’t flinch. 

“Oh, because your life is so hard.” I rolled my eyes at him again. I didn’t want to be angry with him, but nobody could irk my nerve quite as he did. And now I was not only angry I was disappointed. Because never in a million years would I dream of us fighting like this, if we were to ever meet again. I dreamed of something grand. Or maybe not even that, maybe I dreamed of us meeting when we were both ready when we’ve both lived out our lives and we’d meet back at the villa and our eyes would meet and we’d know. I’d never imagined us being complicated. Because everything we’ve ever done came so naturally to us and it always felt so right. 

“In the eyes of the unprivileged, I am the most privileged. But in my privileged eyes, I am not privileged at all.” He shook his head. And I knew he didn’t mean any harm, by his words, I was being too harsh.

“Oliver, I’m tired.” I sighed and held him at arm’s length. “I’m tired of this push and pull game. I’m tired of being there for you to use when you feel lost and lonely because things with Micol are not going the way you wish they were.” I admitted though it hurt my whole body to say these words that felt like poison coming out of my mouth. 

“Is that what you think I’m doing?” he said hurt.

“I…” I started to say and bit my bottom lip “You never wrote to me, you never even tried contacting me again. You called my father a few times and never asked to speak to me. You know how that felt? Like that summer was a mistake, like I was a mistake you tried so desperately to cover up before your wife.” 

“I didn’t know what to say. There was nothing I could say to make it better. I had to leave you. I had to because I couldn’t make it good,” he said calmly, but I could still feel the hurt in his voice. 

“And for the record,” he took a deep breath as if deciding whether to say what he was about to or not. “I knew you were in New York. You never called, you never tried to see me.” Oliver said wanting to make us even. 

“And do what exactly Oliver? Have dinner with you and your wife in your picture-perfect white picket fence house?” I almost cried out. He looked ashamed, a rare sight in him. 

“I don’t know. Have a drink at least.” he shrugged. I sighed audibly. 

“Look, Oliver, I’m sorry your life didn’t work out the way you planned it to. But you said yourself you’re only in Paris for a few days. And I wouldn’t survive saying goodbye to you again. This doesn’t change anything about that.” I gulped hard against the lump in my throat. Because once again I had to let him go to protect my feeble heart. 

“You really don’t understand, do you?” he asked and sounded desperate. 

“Understand what?” I shook my head baffled. He grabbed my face and kissed me hard on the lips, knocking the breath right out of me. He kissed me again like he did that first night like he was parched for years on the desert and I was the last drip of water to keep him alive. I wanted to give myself over to him, but I couldn’t and it took everything in me not to. 

“That this is what I want. This is what I’ve always wanted. But unlike you, I felt like I couldn’t live this life. I really wish I had half you’re courage at your age.” He said as he pulled away and the proceeded to kiss me again when he was done. But I didn’t follow with a ferocity I once had, though I wish I could’ve. 

“Why are you holding back?” he asked frustrated as he came up for air again and ran his thumb across my quivering bottom lip and his pretty features were once again set alight by the lightning. 

“Because I’m afraid to yield to you. I’m afraid you’re going to leave me again.” My eyes prickled with tears as I held onto his big hands on the sides of my face and thunder resounded over the streets. 

“I’m not. I’m not leaving you.” He pecked my lips and my nose and both my eyes to stop me from crying. 

“But your life, your everything is in America.” I was still scrambling and trying to make sense of this. 

“My life is wherever you want it to be. And besides, I have to find a new place to live now that I’m getting a divorce. And who says that can’t be in Paris? That is if you’ll have me.” Oliver brushed my tears away from my cheeks, already joking to lighten up the mood. 

“But what about the university? What will you do when you’re here?” I started bombarding him with questions and I would have continued if it wasn’t for him interrupting. 

“Elio, Elio, hey. Look at me.” He said and I did as I was told.

“Breathe, okay? I’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out.” He pecked the tip of my nose. 

“But I’m ready. I’m ready to do what I should’ve done those five years ago if you’ll let me.” He said and I couldn’t help but kiss him, properly this time, without hesitation. I devoured his mouth. It felt like coming home but it also felt new, like I had to learn its every inch all over again, but somehow I already did know it. I hugged him tight around his middle resting my forehead against his wet shoulder. 

“I miss you,” I whispered. His big hand found its way into my hair.

“I miss you too.” He whispered back into the top of my head. And we stayed like this, intertwined, for what seemed like forever. I felt him shiver and just then realized he was still wearing his wet clothes.

“I’m going to get you something dry to wear.” I kissed his cheek and made my way to the bedroom, drying the tears on my face by the sleeves of my jumper that was a bit too long for me. 

When I came back with his billowy shirt and a pair of my boxers, he was still at the same spot looking over my living room. I handed him the clothes sucking in my bottom lip. 

“Thanks.” He said with a smile before asking where the bathroom was. It was weird, just a few seconds ago in my room I was exhilarated at the idea of seeing him change, but now I was kind of relieved he went into the bathroom to do that and left me with my thoughts. We were still us, we just needed to learn our way around each other again.

I sat on the couch anxious for him to come back. The shirt still looked good on him when he wore it buttoned only by the one button in the middle to stop it from sliding down his arms. I had to smile at seeing him in it. And despite the rain and the storm raging outside it felt like he was bathing me in the sunlight of the Italian summer. 

“Haven’t seen this one in years.” He said with a smile which I knew meant “You kept it all these years” and took a seat next to me.

“It looks good on you.” I winked as he pulled me closer. I put my head in his lap and looked up at him. Strangely some things just came naturally to me like this. I felt like I was finally seeing him after all these years as I could finally truly look at him. Five years haven’t changed him much. The wrinkles around his eyes were a little more prominent and a strange longing feeling gripped me, that I wasn’t there to see them form over time. I sat up and ran my fingers lightly from the end of his eyebrow down to his cheek before kissing the spot beside his eye. He smiled at that and brought me closer by the back of my head to kiss my forehead, letting out an appreciative “Mhmm,” against it. I didn’t want to but I had to ask anyway:

“Does Micol know you’re here?” I said under my breath and I couldn’t look at him as I did. He sighed and caressed my scalp as he answered. 

“It was her idea that I come here. She was really sad I upset yesterday,” he replied against my forehead. 

“Sad?” I lifted up my head to look at him, confused. He nodded before answering.

“I told her about us, the day of the Pelletier wedding. And she was very generous with me. Way more generous than I deserved.” He smiled but I could see he regretted hurting her. 

“She’s very kind.” I smiled at him. 

“She is many things. I think you’d like her if things were different,” he chuckled.

“You love her, of course, I would too.” I smiled at him and then kissed his lips again, slow and a little shy still as thunder played in the background. 

When I came up for air he brought me back to him again, like he didn’t get enough of me. Oh, how I missed these lips and these hands already twisted in my jumper. I wanted all of him all at once but I didn’t know how to ask for it and I guess he didn’t know either. I was so nervous, I was afraid he was going to feel me trembling. But without hesitation I let my head fall back and let him kiss my neck. 

“Mhmm. Oliver,” he moaned against the column of my throat. 

“Elio.” I smiled at our secret little game. “Elio, Elio, Elio, Elio, Elio, Elio, Elio, Elio,” I kept saying. And my body started responding already, the desire coiled in my stomach. At first I wanted to wait, to be cautious, to be mindful of my heart, maybe talk for a little more but words were futile devices. And how could I when he looked like that, in his billowy shirt that I loved so much on him? And when he kissed me like this? And most importantly when it was my Oliver? I didn’t want to but I pulled away and stood up extending my hand for him to take. And as he did I walked him into my bedroom, heart hammering against my ribcage so fiercely I thought he must’ve heard it too. We sat on the bed and I sat a little too far away from him for my liking. I looked at our bare feet on the hardwood floor. I had to smile at the memory as I covered his foot with mine, stalling and he probably remembered too because he did the same. I was just as nervous this time around as I was for the first time. Same as at 17, now at 22 I couldn’t get my breath under control nor stop the shaking of my body. Still, I didn’t know how to ask for permission. I let out a shaky breath and then attached my lips to his again and grabbed the hair at the nape of his neck because I couldn’t stand the distance between us for another second. His kiss now was more cautious, guarded, distant even. 

“Have you changed your mind?” I pulled away scared and alarmed that I once again put my heart on the line, only for it to break. 

“No.” he shook his head. “No, no, no, no.” he started saying faster and stroked the side of my face, pushing my hair behind my ear as he did so. 

“I just haven’t done this in a while,” Oliver admitted. 

“With a man?” I asked.

“Yes, but also with anyone else really.” His eyes darted away for a second probably ashamed for voicing it out loud. 

“How long?” I interrogated. He furrowed his brows and looked upwards as if he was thinking. 

“405 days.” He answered. That wasn’t what I was expecting.

“You kept count?” I lifted up my eyebrow in confusion. 

“No.” he laughed. “But it’s been well over a year anyway.” He shrugged wanting to look unbothered which I already knew not to be true. 

But the fact that I had an upper hand in this for once, encouraged me. I kissed his lips and felt the shyness, the cautiousness of his kiss melt away like butter on a summer morning, under my lips. I hoisted myself up to straddle him. And as I pulled away to take a breath in, he immediately pulled me closer to him again. I licked his bottom and his top lip with just the tip of my tongue to tease him a little, but I couldn’t stand not feeling him for a second longer either. I wanted to explore him again, to learn the texture of his skin once more, to know it as my own. I kissed his jaw and then the soft spot under his ear, while his big hands ran up and down my back pulling up the jumper with them. My palms pressed against his chest to make him lay down flat on the mattress and as he did, I sucked on his earlobe before continuing down the side of his neck. My nose pushed the shirt he was wearing further down to expose his shoulder, while I fumbled with the one closed button. But I was failing miserably because my hands were too thrilled at the idea of finally running down his body. He helped me and I was at long last able to push the shirt off his shoulders and just like with the button, taking the shirt off was a collective effort. His shoulders were always one of my favourite of his features. I ran my hands against the now freckled skin there like I was admiring an ancient sculpture. I needed a taste. I moved from his shoulders over to his collar bones and from there down his chest. The tip of my tongue lashed out to stroke his already erect nipple, at which he made an appreciative sound that felt like music to my ears. I grazed it also with my teeth until he hissed and I soothed it with my tongue again, before moving on to his stomach. It spread before me for what seemed like forever, smooth and perfect like I remembered it, with a lighter spot on his hip from where he scraped it years ago, falling off a bike. Suddenly I ran out of skin to kiss and roam with my hands as I reached the band of my underwear that was a little too tight on him. I looked up at him and caught him already staring. I silently asked for permission to take the underwear off. My heart stopped as he nodded. Just a few moments ago he left for the bathroom to get naked but now he was letting me see him just like he came into this world. I felt honoured and excited and I still wanted all of him all at once, just like I always did. I took the boxers off in one swift movement and my eyes went a little wide as I saw him. I remembered he was particularly gifted in this department, I just didn’t remember him being this gifted. But I was just as hungry for him, my mouth practically watering. He awakened a desire in me, so primal, so unharnessed I thought I’ve forgotten a long time ago. I really thought it was just being 17 and this being an undiscovered territory. But the truth was it had nothing to do with either and all to do with him. First, though I had to kiss those thighs I was thinking about more than I would ever admit, these past few days. And right now they were finally all mine again. Oliver groaned a little that I didn’t give him what he wanted right away and it made me smile as I sunk my teeth lightly into the tender flesh of his inner thigh, making him moan. I took his flawless apricock into my hand and ran it lightly up and down, drawing loud breaths out of him. I sucked at the spot where it met his leg.

“God!” he let out under his breath. Finally, I let my tongue have a taste running my open mouth from the root of it to the top where I teased the already leaking oversensitive tip of it with the very tip of my tongue. My heart was beating faster by the second. At last, I dipped down and swallowed him almost whole, letting the flat of my tongue lap at the underside of it. The sound he made almost didn’t sound like him. One of his hands found a grip in my hair and the other one gripped the sheets. I took it as a sign and went even lower, to a point where it almost set of my gag reflex. I came up just as fast and licked at the tip as if it was the most delicious piece of candy. I then bobbed my head up and down, swirling my tongue around him, applying more suction, eliciting obscene sounds out of him. At one point his hand went from my hair and with a drawn-out caress over my cheek, where it brushed my hair behind my ear and found a way under my chin and he pulled me off of him and up to kiss him, lifting his head off the mattress and definitely tasting himself on my tongue. 

“We won’t have much fun if you keep that up.” He chuckled and was still breathing hard. I kissed his cheek and his ear as he spoke. 

“Where did you learn to do that?” he smiled in my way and ran his thumb against my bottom lip praising my improved skills. I wasted no time in catching the finger in my mouth and sucking on it, making a show of looking him in the eyes as I swished my tongue expertly around it. 

“This you mean?” I pecked the pad of his thumb. “I’ve had some practice.” I smiled a cheeky smile and then kissed him again. 

He flipped us over like I didn’t weigh anything and attacked my neck, making me wrap my legs around his middle and lace my fingers in his hair with a loud exhale. Slowly he took my jumper off and started mapping me out like it was the first time he saw me without it. Just like me, he started at the shoulders but moved down my arms paying special attention to the insides of my elbow and the undersides of my wrists, I couldn’t believe he remembered how much I liked it. He was determined to kiss every inch of my body, down to my very fingertips. After that, he went to my chest and my stomach. Making a point of not ridding me of my underwear just yet, he moved onto my legs, worshipping them from the bit of exposed skin on my thighs to my tippy toes, moving his way over my body like I was made of porcelain and he was afraid I was going to break. Finally, he removed my underwear that felt way too small for me. His nose ran down the piece of skin where my leg met my torso making goosebumps rise all over my body and a moan escaped my lips. It was so nice not having the need to muffle them and I wanted him to hear me, I knew what it did to me when I heard him and I wanted the same for him. A person said to me once that I was a bit too loud for their liking, but I had a feeling, Oliver wouldn’t mind one bit. And then he finally let me into his wet welcoming mouth. My eyes closed and my hips bucked up slightly. He put his big forearm on my stomach to keep me down, while his other hand stroked the side of my left leg that was now slung over his shoulder, rhythmically. His skills really didn’t falter over time and nobody could undo me quite as he could. I tucked on his hair to indicate that we indeed won’t have much fun if he keeps this up either. His face was again levelled with mine as he kissed my lips passionately and pulled my leg up and over his side. I sat up and stretched over to my nightstand drawer, out of which I pulled out a small bottle of some natural oil to lower the friction. Even though we now had lube to use instead of Vaseline, it usually burnt me pretty bad and oils of any sort did the job perfectly. I loved the fact that he couldn’t keep his mouth off of me, kissing my bum, it thrilled me. I lay down flat on my back, asking him to come to me with my outstretched arms. Those few second his lips left mine felt like hours and I needed to feel them again, almost like I needed breathing. 

“I need you,” I whispered into his ear and he nodded, I could feel the nervousness radiating off him, he was always afraid of hurting me, but for all I cared, he could hurt me all he wanted. 

I helped to slather him with the oil and then his warm tip started pushing at my entrance. It felt both familiar and strange at the same time. My face scrunched in pain as he first entered and I let out a small hiss. I still struggled with him until he was fully in, but he soothed my discomfort with calming shh’s and strokes of his hands in my hair. The pain was way quicker to subside than it once was and it definitely wasn’t so bad to start with, but I could still see the torment in his eyes when he saw me fighting through it. But as soon as it did go away, Oliver covered my body with his and kissed me into oblivion, while he moved in and out in a painfully slow fashion, relishing at the moment. Again, I wrapped my legs around his middle, because I needed him closer and closer until there wasn’t even air between us. But I also needed to feel him all over me. My arms wrapped around his neck and my fingers found their way into his hair so I could keep kissing him like there was no tomorrow. And when he kissed me like this I didn’t even care if there was a tomorrow. He was my homecoming, he was my everything, always. His pace picked up and his moans grew louder. Our bodies were sweaty and sticking together a bit, and for a few seconds, every now and then, I forgot where my body ended and his started. Still kissing him, I put my palms flat on his chest and pushed until he flipped us over and given the control over to me. I kept kissing his lips, refusing to let go and he held onto me for dear life, definitely leaving marks on my thigh for tomorrow. Suddenly he went very still for a second, I could feel him swell inside me and in the next moment, a warmth coated my insides and his back lifted off the bed, with a loud moan that vibrated through my body. I was so close myself, it only took a few strokes of his hand to explode. I was home. I collapsed on top of him and he hugged me into his chest, both our chests rising and falling against one another. I was expecting him to pull out immediately like he did almost every time if I didn’t beg him to stay. But I was glad to experience the opposite, without having to say a word. And I honestly didn’t understand, how I could ever have been without him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, yes I do see your requests and I appreciate them a lot and keep sending them in <3 Sorry if I hadn't replied to them, I just didn't want to give the story away too much hehe I wasn't ignoring you. But something's coming your way so don't worry! And I also feel like it's important to say taht I have this story somewhat thought out/written already so please be patient with me if the request isn't put in the following chapter immediately :) I really want the story to make somewhat of a sense hehe so I want to work them in naturally. But yeah anyway keep your eyes out for that! And yeah keep bombarding me with them because I love to hear your perspective and I love to make you happy! <3 love you!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again thank you so so so much for the amazing feedback! <3   
> and again I wanna warn you that mentions of violent encounters that are in no way graphic (if you've read the previous chapters you know what I mean) are in this chapter so proceed with caution if such things trigger you.   
> i love you and i can't wait to answer your comments! your prompts are coming soon - the chapter with the first one is very close to being finished! <3

Oliver pulled out slowly and I cleaned him off tenderly, with a towel that I kept in my nightstand drawer for that very purpose. I lay my head down on his shoulder and stroked his chest softly. He watched my fingers move across his chest and covered my palm with his when I stopped. And just then did I realize that his ring was nowhere to be seen. That ring that was taunting me since the day we met.

“Where’s your ring?” I asked eyes still boring into his ring finger. 

“At the hotel,” he said and squeezed my hand a little as to say  _ You don’t have to worry about it.  _

“How is it being bound to someone?” I asked and looked up at him. Because it was something I would never experience, in a traditional sense. 

“I think you know,” he smiled in my direction and ran his finger down my nose and started playing with the hair above my ear. 

“But, you know what I mean. How is it that they are lawfully yours?” I questioned further. 

“I suppose it’s nice. But it doesn’t really matter if you don’t love them the way they deserve to be loved. You can be lawfully bound to anyone, if your heart’s not fully in it, it doesn’t really matter,” he kissed my forehead as I nodded my head, mulling the thought over in my head. 

“Can I stay a bit longer tonight?” Oliver asked out of nowhere. At first, I was startled that he thought he couldn’t. But it occurred to me a few moments later, he was just asking if I needed my space. And I’d rather never have that than have him leave tonight. 

“Stay the night and every night after that,” I reached up and kissed his lips firmly. 

I woke up, two hours after I fell asleep, as per usual. At first, when my eyes were still closed, I was a bit startled to feel the weight of another body beside me. And then when I opened them and my brain was still fuzzy with sleep like cotton, I couldn’t believe Oliver was here, with me. He was lying on his side, with one arm folded under the pillow and the other one draped casually over my middle. I’ve done what I always did when I woke up in the middle of the night. I switched my position, this time I nuzzled into Oliver’s chest and closed my eyes shut, forcing myself to slumber. But just like always it didn’t work. I was fussy, huffing and puffing, tossing and turning. I really didn’t want to leave the bed with him in it, but he started stirring in his sleep and I was afraid to wake him, so I got up, closed the door behind me and padded quietly into the living room. It was also part of my routine now, to get out of bed and wait the night out until my body was physically unable to stay awake any longer. Sometimes I fell asleep on the couch when the sun started to rise and sometimes I didn’t go to sleep until the next evening. I took a book I was currently reading out of the shelf and sat on the piano bench, lighting a cigarette, just to give my hands something to do. It felt surreal like I was still dreaming. I couldn’t believe that if I opened the door to my bedroom I’d see him, sleeping peacefully in my bed. I wasn’t really paying attention to the words on the page, I was still replaying the events of the last few hours in my head.  _ I couldn’t believe it _ . But it was him and it was me and though these decisions were abrupt they felt more right than anything ever did. It didn’t even take us two seconds to fall back into our old ways. Then a soft cough plucked me out of my thoughts. 

“Did I wake you?” I looked up from my book alarmed. He yawned and shook his head no, but I knew he did it because he just didn’t want me to feel guilty even if I did rid him of sleep. He walked the few strides separating us and sat beside me, straddling the piano bench. 

“Can’t sleep?” he asked and brushed a curl behind my ear affectionately. I nestled my face into his big palm and kissed it before speaking. 

“I can’t seem to stay asleep through the night these past few months.” I shrugged. 

“I had no idea.” He said more like he was thinking out loud than talking to me. He looked tired, but selfishly, I was happy he was here, awake, with me. 

“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me, as I’m sure is also true for me, about you.” I looked him in the eyes and they had this sadness about them I’ve never seen in them. 

“So tell me.” He smiled through the pain my statement has caused him. There was so much life lived in those five years and apart from vague information we shared a couple of nights ago, we knew next to nothing about those lives. But it was us. And if he wanted me to talk all night about my life, to make him feel part of it, I would. And I knew he would do the same for me. 

“What do you want to know?” I rested my hands on the top of his thighs and he placed his hands over mine, watching them before lacing our fingers together. 

“Everything.” He smiled looking at our intertwined fingers. “You talked about New York when I last asked you. Tell me about that,” he looked up at me and smiled. I let out a nervous chuckle. I always wanted him to think higher of me. To look at me and see the version of myself I wanted to be, a better version. And my time in New York, though it was beautiful and I love the city very much, started out rough. 

“Okay. I’ll tell you. But you have to promise, you’re not going to hate me when I’m finished.” I sighed. 

“I don’t think that’s possible,” he flashed me a smile again to encourage me and kissed my lips softly. I took a deep breath in.

“When I graduated and moved to New York, I…” I thought for a second to choose the right words.

“I was heartbroken and sick of it. I was tired of feeling lonely and hurt. So I…” I had to take another deep breath in to stop my voice from shaking and looked at our hands because my next sentence might forever change his mind about me. And he might still walk out of the door and not look back, trotting away to tell Micol that he was mistaken and I was no longer the person he once knew. 

“I said I was experimenting, but I was just finding solace in strangers who weren’t always that nice to me, but I encouraged them anyway.” I finally looked up at him. His expression was not what I was expecting. I expected surprise, repulsion, disappointment. I certainly didn’t anticipate to see pain, sorrow nor compassion. 

“Did they hurt you?” he asked in a hushed voice and caressed the side of my thumb with his.

“Sometimes.” I lied. “Most times.” I corrected immediately. “But I chose them because I knew that they would. It wasn’t like I had no idea. And I never asked them to stop. I thought every pain in the world was better than the one I felt in my heart.” I had to look away. I hated doing this to him.

“How did that stop? Did you find someone who changed your mind?” he questioned as if he was reading a compelling story and wanted to get to the end. Just then, did I look back at him and smiled. 

“I wish it was that romantic. But no. I hated myself at the time, I couldn’t even look myself in the eyes in the mirror. There was this particularly rough incident. And I just wanted it to stop. I knew I needed to stop. It was arrogant of me and not to mention dangerous. I needed to gain back my control. I went on a couple of dates over the next few months because I really didn’t want to be alone, especially on the weekends. And then I met Alexander, New Yorker, NYU student same as me, aspiring writer. And I decided I was going home with him, I was ready to get back into the physical aspect but with more respect for myself. But I ended up weeping into his pillow as we started…” I motioned my head to indicate what I meant, suddenly embarrassed. It was weird to think that I and Alex would ever get physical. I never thought of us fooling around after that. And I don’t think he ever did too. 

“He was nice enough to calm me down and let me sleepover. And we’re best friends since then.” I chuckled to lighten the mood. Oliver’s hand found the back of my neck and brought my forehead to rest on his shoulder while he caressed my scalp gently. How could I have ever thought he would hate me for this? When he was in fact, just sacred for me. 

“You talked about a boyfriend too.” He said and the look in his eyes told me he was uncomfortable asking, but I think he needed to know everything before we start again, it would only be fair. 

“Yes. His name is Leo. He’s one of Alexander’s friends from childhood. They grew up in the same building. He’s New York Italian.” I smiled at the memory of Leo and looked up at Oliver.

“Your answer was very vague before, about you breaking his heart.” Oliver egged me on with an uncomfortable chuckle.

“Yes, well, we did really just want different things, that’s all there’s to it. He wanted to move to LA and be a screenwriter and I didn’t. I wanted to go back to Europe and he didn’t. And I guess our own desires were more important to us than each other.” I shrugged again and moved my mouth from side to side. Leo was a good person and a wonderful boyfriend. Sometimes I still missed him, because we did indeed have a beautiful year or so together. But I’m sure Oliver could relate, that something was just always missing and I really tried to love him with all my heart, tried to give him the world, or rather tried to make him my world, but I just couldn’t. No matter how hard I tried, I could never be what he needed me to be.  _ “You’re distant,” _ he’d always say. And though I was sad for hurting him so deeply, I knew it was for the best. 

“So, he’s in sunny LA, making a name for himself and I’m here.” I smiled as to say,  _ with you _ , without saying it. 

“So, that’s recent?” Oliver asked taken aback a little. 

“Three months?” I said and it came out more like a question. 

“And your insomnia?” he asked with genuine care. 

“That’s fairly new as well. At first, I thought it was just the time difference, but when it didn’t stop after a month I abandoned that theory. And so I come here for hours to read or watch the ceiling, hoping I’ll get tired eventually and pass out on the couch.” I said shrugging again. 

Oliver smiled a sly smile.

“I have an idea.” He said and kissed my jaw. “Stand up.” He said and kissed my mouth. I didn’t want to let go. I didn’t even realize how much I’ve missed these lips, these past few hours. 

“Stand.” He whispered in between the kisses. “Up.” He finished. And I did with an eye roll and a groan. I had no idea what he had in mind, but leaving his lips wasn’t my idea of fun. That was until he pulled my underwear just under my bum and ran his nose over my belly, bringing me closer to him by his hands on my exposed bottom. 

“You’re not scared of me, are you?” he asked. Which I appreciated after everything I’ve just told him even though, I was thankfully long behind my panic-ridden days when it came to this. 

“Of course not,” I said because I could never be scared of him. 

Slowly, painfully slowly, he licked me from the root to the tip, making my breath hitch in my throat and my hands twist in his hair. And as soon as he let me into his mouth I let out a moan so loud, it probably woke all my neighbours up. He chuckled around me at that, making his whole mouth vibrate and heighten my sensitivity. 

“Merde.” I breathed out as Oliver applied more suction and let go, with a loud pop, to tease my tip endlessly with his tongue. Then he swallowed me again, almost making me reach the back of his throat, at which he gagged, I guess from lack of practice, but recovered quickly and continued with his mouth attached to me. The muscles of my stomach were tensed and I longed for the release. Slowly the desire in my stomach uncoiled. As it was coming to a close I squeezed his hair at the root to let him know, in case he wanted to let go. But just like always, he didn’t swerve and lapped his tongue for every last drop of me until I was clean and ridden out of my orgasm. I steadied myself by my hands on his shoulders, because I felt like my legs would buckle under me if I didn’t and Oliver kept me upright holding onto me by my waist. I was breathing hard and open-mouthed, trying to come back to myself. 

“Let’s get you to bed,” he kissed my belly and looked at me affectionately. 

I was really confused on how this would help me sleep. 

“You were always so sleepy after. Where you mustered all that energy for the multiple rounds was always a mystery to me.” Oliver said kissing my nose and stroking my cheek lulling me to sleep as I again laid on his chest. And once again his theory proved to be right, even if just for tonight. And if this was to be my cure for insomnia I certainly wouldn't mind. 

Oliver wanted to experience Paris with me at night. So I decided to take him to dinner the next day. I wanted him all to myself, but I couldn’t help feeling guilty for leaving Micol alone at night again. I knew she understood but I knew first hand, how being left alone hurt. So I made a promise to her that if she let me have him for one more night, I’d invite them both for the orchestra’s concert the following day and she agreed. 

We entered a restaurant and were seated. As I ordered the red wine I liked here, the waitress kept smiling at me a bit too much. She was a pretty French girl, with high cheekbones and thick dark hair and pretty brown eyes. I understood she was trying to flirt. 

“Can I get you anything else, gentlemen?” she smiled at me and bit into her bottom lip while she looked at me through her eyelashes. Oliver tried to read the name of the dish from the menu with broken French and once again I corrected. 

“Your French is really good!” she said in heavily accented English and giggled while her hand found a way to my shoulder, making me slightly uncomfortable.

“Thank you,” I answered, not really keen on explaining why my French was the way it was. I really hoped she understood then that I unfortunately for her, took no interest in her. 

Oliver smiled hiding his face behind the menu, probably hoping I wouldn’t notice. 

“What?” I asked pushing the menu out of his face. 

“Nothing.” He replied but was still smiling that amused, sly smile. 

“You’re not gonna tell me?” I asked. “I’m not gonna tell you.” He smiled back at me and clinked my water glass that was on the table with his own before taking a sip. 

Throughout dinner, again, we fell back into our little routines, like him placing his foot over mine under the table so nobody would notice. And this time I didn’t pull away. I could get used to this. I longed to be as loud as I possibly could, to take his hand in the street and let everybody know that he was mine and I was his, but I couldn’t push him. I respected he looked all over the place before he even put his foot on mine, or before he ghosted his fingers over mine as if he wanted to take my hand in a street. It again planted seeds of doubt in me, but I tried really hard to fight them off. He said he wanted this, he said he was ready and I ought to give him a little credit. This is what I’ve wanted, him coming back for me and he did eventually. I could never truly understand how hard it was for him because I never lived a different life, I’ve always been me. My parents always accepted me and my friends did too. 

After dinner, we decided to have dessert and drink a bit more wine. A different waiter approached us since I guess Sophie (it’s what her nametag said) probably gave up on her efforts in trying to pursue me. 

“Bon appétit!” the man said and smiled at me, also a bit too broad of a smile. I thanked him, politely, but again tried to convey I was not interested. 

As we left the restaurant, we were both a bit buzzed from the wine, my cheeks definitely stained a deeper shade of pink as always when I drank red. I held the check in my hand as we were leaving the restaurant. There was a number scribbled on the very bottom of it. I had to laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. 

“What’s so funny?” Oliver asked. I just shook my head no. I didn’t want to make him more uncomfortable than I already must have, having two people making eyes at me at our first proper dinner. But he was quick to snatch the check from me. 

“I can’t believe this! Do we know if it was the girl or the boy?” he laughed out loud and didn’t look too bothered. We reached the river and I thought it a good idea to hop on the wall separating us from the bank. I stopped in my tracks and put my hands on his shoulders, looking him deep in the eyes. 

“They all love you, don’t they?” he asked, for the first time showing his discomfort. 

“Nobody loves me, Oliver.” I answered, “They use me because I’m something they desire.” I finished. 

“Is that what you really think?” he replied with a question. I looked at him and cocked my eyebrow up in lieu of asking “What else could it possibly be?”

“I think they’re afraid.” Oliver countered. 

“Of what?” I inquired because this theory wasn’t making any sense to my slightly drunk mind. 

“That you won’t love them back,” he said and put his hands on mine on his shoulders. 

“Were you?” I asked my gaze not wavering once. He looked away and took a deep breath.

“Terrified.” he exhaled loud as he looked into my eyes again. 

We decided to walk home to sober up. But the night, unlike the one before, was beautiful and warm and made for a walk. 

“I wanna take a bath.” I decided abruptly as we came back to the flat. 

“Can I join you?” Oliver asked a little coy. “Is that even a question?” I smiled wide and kissed him on the lips. Again, I didn’t want to leave to go and fill up the bath, but I found it in me and went. As I worked faucets to make the water a comfortable temperature, Oliver stood behind me, leaning on the sink, watching me. I turned around and he hugged me around my middle. Biting my lip I started undoing the buttons on his shirt, kissing every bit of newly exposed skin as I did so. I knew he liked it, but something felt off. He became awfully quiet on the walk. But I didn’t want to pry. Me taking a bath was my way of obscurely asking him whether he needed a bit of space. The fact that he wanted to join me thrilled me. 

I undressed him and he helped me out of my clothes without a word. I got in when the bath was sufficiently filled that I wouldn’t feel cold when I sat down, but could still enjoy the sound of running water for a bit longer. 

“Oh my god, that’s hot!” he exclaimed as he got in and I couldn’t help but giggle. He sat down and motioned for me to sit in between his legs, with my back to him. So, I pressed my back into his chest and let myself be embraced and kissed on the jaw and the side of my neck. But there was something on his mind he wasn’t saying. I could tell. And I didn’t know what it was until he spoke again after a while of silence.

“I’m sorry.” He breathed out into my ear and I felt like I heard his voice breaking a little at the end. He hugged me a bit tighter to him.

“I’m sorry for leaving you. I really felt like I had to.” He kissed the spot above my ear. I turned around in the too-small space and put my wet hands on either side of his face. 

“I’m sorry for making you believe you’re just something to be desired. Because it’s not true. You of all people deserve to be loved the most. Because you love unapologetically. You loved me the most and I…” he trailed off closing his eyes tightly shut fighting tears and pursed his lips. I kissed his forehead and let my lips rest against it. 

“I did that to you, didn’t I? I led you into destroying yourself.” He said not looking at me still. 

“Oliver, I did what I did because I felt like I needed to at the time. I’m not proud of it because it was a mistake but I made my peace with it. Because we all make mistakes sometimes.  _ C’est la vie _ .” I whispered and kissed his forehead again. 

“I just hope I was not your mistake,” I added and that made him lift his head and he put his hands over mine on the sides of his face. His eyes were red, but he wasn’t crying.

“The only mistake was that I walked away from you and hoped that we would forget. I’ve told you this already, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you let me," his shoulders were slumped and I couldn’t believe he was this broken, it almost made me want to cry as well. And I felt a bit ashamed of myself, that I never even once, stopped to consider the pain he must’ve felt. I kissed his lips firmly before saying:

“Oliver, we need to forgive each other, but we also need to forgive ourselves. Only then can we move forward.” And it sounded like something my father would say. 

“Is there anything you don’t know?” he answered with a question again before kissing me on the lips. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry, this took so long I'm sort of going through a writer's block right now, which I absolutely hate. But anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and I'll see you soon with another one!

I came back to the room and Oliver was lying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, reading through his pages. He said he wanted to get them done as soon as possible because sending them to my father from Paris would take much less time, then sending them from the States. He was biting the end of his pen as his eyes darted over the page in concentration. I put his coffee on the nightstand and lay down next to him. He was so absorbed in his writing he didn’t even notice I came back from the kitchen. And just like always, I hated the feeling of being ignored by him. 

“Your coffee is ready,” I said to spike his interest. 

“What?” he asked a few moments later, totally absorbed in his own world. 

“Your coffee. It’s ready.” I replied and pointed my chin in its direction. 

“Uhm. Thanks.” He said but I didn’t think he really heard what I was saying. I nudged the top of my head against his side to make him pay attention, but he didn’t even flinch. 

A loud sigh escaped me as I settled on my back, but not even that would make him look away from his article. I turned to my side and watched him. I always liked his face when he was concentrated and the way he nibbled that pen…I felt an undying need to touch him, to run my hand across his bare back and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to keep my hands off of him. I started at the nape of his neck, just where his hair ended and ghosted my fingers down over the prominent bone there, before trailing them down between his shoulder blades which made goosebumps rise all over his back. I moved on down over the arch of his back and when I reached the sheet that was covering his bottom half I simply pushed it away to find his bare bottom staring back at me, begging me to be touched. As I bit my bottom lip I let my fingers roam one ass cheek, which made the muscles in his bum twitch and then I moved up the other one. I finally succeeded and caught his eye. 

“Stop it,” he said but I could hear the giggle in his voice and I knew he didn’t really want me to stop. So, just gingerly I moved my fingers over the ridge between them. 

“Seriously, stop it.” He looked down at me with a smile on his lips. “I need to concentrate.” He added, but I didn’t want to, neither planned to stop. 

“Stop what?” I asked playfully and let my fingers dip lightly into that ridge of his bum. “Oh, this you mean?” I smiled at him and bit my bottom lip. He chuckled and turned back to his writing, shaking his head. But I didn’t pull away, instead, I kissed his side tenderly, moved my nose just over his bum to the other side and ended with a kiss there as well. He turned to his back abruptly and pulled me on top of him so that our faces were levelled. 

“Is this what you want?” Oliver said grabbing me by the hair, his eyes getting a bit darker and kissed me hard on the lips, letting our tongues fight for dominance before settling into comfortable sync. 

“Very much.” I breathed out between the kisses. I lay flat on my back, pulling him on top of me in the process so I could get a hold of that perfect bum of his, the one my palms were still itching to touch. Oliver started kissing my jaw and my neck but I didn’t want to get distracted. 

“Have you ever thought about it?” I asked and again let my fingers slip between his ass cheeks. 

“Yes,” he breathed against my collar bone. I raked my fingers through his hair. 

“Would you wanna try?” I asked. He looked at me, eyes wild and mouth opened glistening with saliva, he nodded. 

“Now?” I lifted my eyebrows in a hopeful question. He gulped hard and I could feel the energy shift a little towards nervousness, but he nodded anyway. My heart was also hammering in my chest. I placed my forefinger under his chin and lifted his face up to kiss him. I flipped him over again so he was on his back. 

I kissed down his jaw and neck before moving to his collar bones. I wanted to relax him before we went any further with this. I could feel his body relax a little as I kissed open mouth kisses down his chest and over the stomach. Then I moved on to his thighs that always lit a fire in me, watching them from behind my round table in the garden. I still couldn’t believe I could kiss them like this and hear the sounds that my mind could never fully fabricate, because they were that perfect. I moved the tip of my tongue down his inner thigh watching him all the way. His eyes were tightly shut, his brows furrowed but his mouth was curled in a smile. On the skin on the inside of his knee, I found something that didn’t use to be there, something that I didn’t notice the last time I explored him like this. It was a little ridged scar. I pecked it while my fingers found its twin on the outside of his right knee. 

“What’s this?” I asked cautiously and pecked it again. 

Oliver lifted his head up from the pillow to look at me. 

“I needed a knee operation a couple of years ago. That’s why I don’t run as much anymore.” He smiled at me and his huge hand found the side of my face to caress it. I gulped hard and nodded. I knew I couldn’t do anything about our lost time but I also couldn’t help but feel hurt when he mentioned something major like an operation that I wasn’t there for or didn’t know about. I crawled up to level our faces again and connected our lips. I needed him to kiss my distress away. I knew I wasn’t there for many important moments of his life, but there are many important moments I can be present for. Some I can even instigate, like this one, but I know there are many more on the way that will be of essence still. 

“Lay on your stomach,” I commanded softly and he did as he was told, folding his arms under his head, while I put two pillows under his pelvis. 

I brushed the few strands of his hair, that fell into his face, away and kissed him on the side of his face before retrieving the oil from my nightstand. I returned to him and stroked the skin of his bottom like I was praising him already. I got between his legs and placed a soft kiss on the skin of his tailbone before I held the halves open and very gently let my tongue lick over his entrance, which made him let out a loud moan and the eyes roll into the back of his head, I was sure even though I didn’t see his face. I smiled to myself and continued teasing him like this for a while longer eliciting obscene sounds as I did so. Then, I lay next to him and kissed the side of his face a little sloppily. I ran my fingers lightly over his lips and he wasted no time in sucking them in, twirling his tongue over them, teasing me in turn.

“Ready?” I asked into his ear and he murmured in agreement. I slathered my fingers with the oil and let some of it drip between the cheeks of his ass, the coldness of it making him twitch. I circled the finger over the entrance before letting the first knuckle slide in without much problem. 

“Mhmm,” he let out appreciatively. And I kissed him again on the corner of his slightly opened mouth. Because it was him, who taught me the squeeze and release technique, that made this process a lot easier, he didn’t have to be told, he just squeezed when he felt comfortable progressing. The first finger was fully in in seconds, making him let out soft sounds that were like honey running down your chin. But when I curled it inside, it hit a bundle of nerves that no longer kept the sounds so soft. I had to smile to myself, for he looked so beautiful yet so unaware of it. I kissed the corner of his mouth again and this time he turned his head a bit more to the side so he could kiss me properly. I pulled out the finger and brushed two against him at which he nodded for me to continue. I didn’t stop kissing him as I slipped the two first knuckles inside. He let out a low grunt into my mouth but didn’t refrain from squeezing anyway, letting me know again that it was okay to continue. The second knuckle deep and a tiny little bit to go still, I had to look at him to make sure he was alright. His eyebrows were laced but not in pain more in determination. He squeezed my fingers again and I let them in farther. I let him adjust before circling them and caressing the soft flesh by curling them. His slightly parted lips let the breaths turn into moans. 

“Can you take three?” I whispered in his ear. His face was now buried in the mattress and all he managed was a nod and something incoherent that I understood was agreement. Again, he gasped at the loss of contact and then three of my fingers circled his entrance. I pushed in just slightly, but his body gave a violent jerk and pulled away from my fingers. 

“More oil.” He gasped and I reacted immediately, slathering my fingers with more oil and rubbing soothing circles into his side. Then I tried it again and this time, even though there was still a tad of resistance, which was expected, I slid the fingers’ first knuckle in. I waited a while and this time he had to be told to squeeze my fingers. He did and I slid further in, my heart hammering in my chest, blood thumping in my ears, my hand stroking his back to make him relax. The muscles in his back were tensing and relaxing as he was working through the initial discomfort. Then, when he got comfortable they only tensed with anticipation. When my fingers were fully submerged in him and I curled them in a little bit, he even started enjoying it.

“Fuck me, Oliver.” He said just above a whisper setting every nerve in my body on fire. 

“How about we save that for later?” I said just to spite him because I had no intention of stopping unless he asked me to. He let out a growl in frustration and hid his face into the mattress. I let out a chuckle. I let my fingers slip out of him and sat between his legs again. Oliver didn’t protest me pulling out, but I knew he was disappointed, still thinking I had no inclination to continue what we’ve started. It startled him when my tongue found his manhood, maybe because he wasn’t expecting it, maybe because it was now overly sensitive or maybe a bit of both. After licking him from tip to where his balls hid the rest, I decided to take him in my mouth and wash away the last bits of discomfort he might still be feeling, before moving on. I swirled my tongue around him, just like I now knew he enjoyed and lapped at every last drop of precum. He was breathing hard into the mattress, sometimes letting loud moans escape that reverberated through his whole body. His dick started twitching and swelling in my mouth and just as he was nearing the end I let go with a loud pop for emphasis. He grunted again in disbelief and exasperation, but this he propped himself on his elbows to look me in the face. I smiled, ran my fingers through his hair, aligned our faces and kissed him again, letting my tongue inside his mouth. He kissed me with a ferocity that was fuelled by his pent up frustration. 

“Turn around. I want to see your face as I make love to you for the first time like this.” I said between the kisses. And he did as he was told without any questions. I sat between his legs again and let him slather me with oil, enjoying myself a little too much. 

I kissed him again before I aligned myself with his entrance. I kept my eyes on him, while his closed shut. I kept one hand on myself to guide me and one on his chest to soothe him if need be, he kept both of his on my knees that were now on either side of his bum. I let him know I was about to enter. It wasn’t as much of a struggle for me to get in as it was for him to enter me, but it still scrunched his face in pain and quickened his breath and made his grip on my knees tighten. I soothed him caressing his chest and his face before continuing. The muscles around me squeezed and released and I let myself in a little farther. This time he let out another grunt of discomfort that I dissolved running my hand up and down his exposed cock, to give him something else, something good to think about. Soon he was tensing and moaning for a release. I made him squeeze me again and wanted to slip a little more inside as he let go. It took a couple of tries for him to let the head of my cock inside of him. The worst part was over though. I slowly inched the rest of me inside. I waited, with my hand on his dick again, to let me know when it was okay to move. And when he nodded his approval I went slowly out and in again, still running my hand over him as I did so. After a while of this, he grabbed me by the hips and I understood the gesture as an invitation to move faster. Soon the pain left his face entirely and the hisses turned into moans coiling the desire in my lower belly even tighter. He was so beautiful like this. Seeing him peak always thrilled me, but this still felt different, being surrounded by him, being given all this trust felt different, the good kind. It didn’t take long before there was a moan so loud, all of my neighbours probably heard it and he came all over my hand and his stomach, shaking, like I never saw him before, his back lifted off the mattress. And just like always seeing him reach the climax, knowing I’m the one responsible for bringing him such pleasure sent me over the edge as well. I rode myself out and collapsed on top of him, exhausted. I pulled out sooner than I wanted to, but I knew it could bring him pain again if I stayed a bit longer, but I still lay on top of him, letting myself be wrapped up in his arms. 

Oliver’s POV

That night Elio invited me and also Micol to come to see him play again. Well, not just him, the whole orchestra but I only had eyes for him anyway. Ever since this afternoon, I was living in this haze of what my life might be when I move here and I couldn’t stop smiling. I couldn’t stop smiling at the idea of _us_. He was right like he always was, I needed to forgive myself. Yes, five years was a long time and I didn’t make the best decisions, but I wasn’t ashamed of them, I loved Micol. Maybe in a different way than she deserved, but I still did. And besides, in a grand scheme of things five years is no more than just a blip in time and me and Elio had our whole lives spreading in front of us. I was filled with such joy, a joy I’ve never felt before, maybe just once when he kissed me for the first time. My heart skipped a beat when he walked out on the stage. I was almost sure he was a renaissance painting come to life or that his parents didn’t conceive him but rather they poured the bronze into a mould and by some magic, their statue came to life. He truly was poetry in motion and every time I looked at him I couldn’t believe he was real, let alone that he was mine. I may have forgotten to breathe for a second or twenty which I only realized when I heard a small sob escape from my left. I turned to the source of that sound, as one of the musical pieces was coming to an end and to my surprise Micol’s eyes were filled with tears that I didn’t think were caused by the music, though it was beautiful. I took her hand in a silent show of support, though I wasn’t sure she wanted it or wanted it from me when I was behind her distress. I squeezed her hand like I always did, her head turned and through those welling eyes, she smiled at me, which I definitely didn’t deserve. Our hands stayed tied as everybody started clapping and as the crowd settled down Micol lay her head on my shoulder and stayed silent until the end. 

We were to meet Elio in front of the concert hall. I pulled out my packet of cigarettes and Micol took it and lit one without asking before I could even pull out mine. She leaned her head back as she watched the smoke escape her mouth. 

“I’m sorry.” She said and her voice was weak. “for that, in there.” She pointed her chin in the direction of the concert hall. 

“You have nothing to apologize for.” I smiled her way and took a drag of my cigarette. 

“Of course I do. This is everything you’ve ever wanted and it was nice of Elio to invite me. Because truly, he could’ve just kept you for himself. And now I’m crying like I want you to be sorry for me and ruining your night.” She took another pull of her cigarette and then tapped away the ash. 

“I just…” she started “…I was relieved when you told me about him, because it’s been eating away at me for years. And then when it didn’t I really just felt like I wasn’t good enough for you. I’m happy for you I really am. I just…” I could see she was picking her words carefully, taking her time when she put the cigarette between her lips. 

“…it just dawned on me that you won’t be in my life anymore and I don’t even know what that feels like anymore.” Her eyes welled up again but she wiped the tears away with the back of her free hand. I cupped her shoulder with my hand and waited for her to look at me before I spoke. 

“Micol, I will always be in your life if you want me to. You’re always welcome here in Paris.” I said, trying for an encouraging smile. 

“Paris?” she breathed out and her shoulders slumped and she threw the cigarette away before cupping her face in both of her hands and a tremor went through her body as she tried to stifle a cry. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Fuck. Sorry.” She started blubbering and wiping at her face to stop her from crying. 

“I mean I knew you’re moving out of our house I just didn’t realize you’re moving one ocean away.” She gulped hard and I couldn’t help but hug her and rest my chin on top of her head until she calmed down a little. 

“Oh god.” She exhaled loudly. “What am I gonna tell the girls? I’m now going to be a divorcee. They might look at me all nice when I’m there, but you remember what they said about Lori behind her back when she and Michael got divorced.” She hid her face in my chest as I stroked her hair. 

“We’ll figure something out. We need to anyway I don’t think it would be wise to tell my parents either, that I am leaving to live with another man, at least not for some time. I think my father would have a heart attack if I did. I’ll have to ease them into it I guess.” At that, she lifted her face up to look at me again. 

“I’m so sorry Oliver. I…” she was overcome by another wave of tears. 

“I’m worried about my social status and I totally didn’t think about your parents. Or my parents. Oh god.” She touched her hand to her temple. “I’m so sorry.” She whispered again. 

“Don’t be. It’s okay.” I said taking her face in my hands. “We’ll figure it out. I might be one ocean away but I’m still here for you, okay? And we’ll get through this. Hell, we’ll be divorcees together.” That made her laugh. 

“Yeah, we’ll do that together.” She smiled up at me. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! I'm so sorry for being MIA for a few months. Life just got in the way and I was experiencing a truly awful writer's block. But thank you for sticking around if you did and I very much appreciate your support! <3 This chapter might seem a little absolute but I promise and I hope it's not the last one. I actually have the story planned for a bit and a few bits and bobs written already so yeah, stay tuned <3 love you, always.

I was cooking lunch while Oliver went out to meet with Maxime before he left the next day. I was never a great cook, my food was passable at best, unlike my ex-boyfriend’s - Leo’s. His father was a brilliant cook. Leo spend a lot of time with his father and strived to be like him in every way, I think, cooking included. And so, his father taught him everything. He tried to teach me, but I guess I was useless. “Questo ragazzo non sa cucinare per salvarsi la vita.“ _This boy can’t cook to save his life_ , he’d always say. I didn’t think I was that bad, but being as excellent as he was, he probably saw me that way. But at least I could make great coffee, which Leo certainly couldn’t. What would Leo think if he saw me right now? Would he be mad that I didn’t grieve our relationship long enough? Would he say he always knew I wasn’t in it 100% and this just proves he was right? Or would he simply not care because I let him walk away, which was proof enough? A closing door snapped me out of my thoughts. Oliver walked into view and my heart did a backflip just knowing we’re breathing the same air. I hope he always has this effect on me. My stomach stopped growling in hunger because it was filled with butterflies. I still couldn’t believe he was real. I needed to touch, to feel him in any way that I could, just to make sure he was real and not a daydream or a lack-of-sleep hallucination. Moving like on autopilot, my body crashed into his just as my lips did too.

“Someone’s eager.” He chuckled as he pulled away to breathe.

“I…I missed you.” I admitted. Oliver smiled and kissed my forehead.

“I got you something.” He smiled in my way, but looked suddenly a little nervous. I shifted my weight from one leg to the other in anticipation. He produced a small deep blue velvet box seemingly out of nowhere and took a deep breath before opening it. Inside was a simple gold band, similar to the one he wore before he decided to leave Micol. I stared at him, speechless and confused.

“You asked me a few days ago how it is being bound to someone. I think you already know what that feels like, when that one person is the first thing you think about in the morning when you wake up and the last before you go to sleep and every other thought between that. Sometimes if you’re lucky it’s the person you wake up next to and lie down next to every night. Sometimes, though, this person is half the world away but you still can’t stop thinking about them, missing them and wishing you could hold them in your arms. And the only thing you really truly want is for everyone to know that they’re yours and you’re theirs. This world is cruel and it doesn’t allow us to bind two people, just because they’re too alike, even if what they feel in their hearts is the purest thing they’ve ever felt. I know I’ve made mistakes, I’ve seemingly let go, but I truly never did and I promised you I never will. I know we can’t make this traditional, but we can make this ours and maybe one day in the future people will know better, then we’ll put it on paper. But for now, this ring binds me to you, if you let me. And I promise to make up for lost time, to repair what I broke and to always come back for you, wherever you may be.”

I opened my mouth to say something but I couldn’t find the right words.

“Wow, you’re not saying anything. That’s a first. Do I win something for that?” he laughed and rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous manner. I playfully smacked his chest and we both started laughing.

“I just, I don’t know what to say. Do I say ‘yes’ or ‘I do’? Or do I…” Oliver didn’t let me finish, because his body was now crashing into mine and his lips attacked mine, backing me into the kitchen counter along the way.

“Just kiss me….and let me…. put that… on your finger…. okay?” he said in between kisses he placed all over my cheeks and my forehead and eyebrows and my chin. He finished by taking my left hand and sliding the band on my ring finger. The weight of it, the look of it felt so right, as if my finger was made for exactly this thin ribbon of gold. He took my hand into his big ones and kissed the ring, but kept his eyes on me. I grabbed him by the hair and brought him back up to my lips to show him just how grateful I was, just how much I appreciated his promise. _L’alliance_ that’s what the French call it. And that’s what we now were. No longer just two bodies living their lives next to each other (or apart), but an alliance, officially.

Soon after, my lips travelled down his jaw and to his neck ravaging every bit of exposed damp skin, lighting a fire in me, hearing him let out deep breaths of air. I undid a button on his shirt and ravaged his collar bone. His hand found its rightful place in my hair massaging my scalp, tugging softly at the roots, letting appreciative sounds to vibrate my lips. Oliver’s other hand snaked its way under my jaw and suddenly grabbed for my chin bringing my lips back to his for a moment. We didn’t fight for dominance, we danced together, in perfect sync. I flipped him around so that his whole frame was supported by the counter now. I almost tear of his shirt, discarding it carelessly onto the cold tiled floor. And after it was gone I went after his shorts. He helped me get them off. I dropped to my knees and my hands ran up his muscular thighs, from his knees to his stomach, but my eyes never left his. His lips were parted and his breaths were deep. His stare was wild. I placed kisses all over his stomach bringing him closer to me by the small of his back, my hands slowly moving to his bum, squeezing just enough to let him know how much I wanted him, not enough to hurt. I wanted to tease him, I truly did, but just like always I couldn’t help myself. I wanted him, all of him all at the same time. I wanted to taste him and smell him and touch him, feel him with every fibre of my wanting body. I dipped down, swallowing him almost whole, making his head drop back and his knuckles turn white as they gripped the edge of the counter. I only came back to reality for a second when I felt him tug on my sweater and let him pull it over my head as I came up for air. He seized that moment and grabbed my chin again to kiss me and taste himself on my tongue, but I pulled away just to latch onto his _apricock_. He pulled me away again by my chin and forced me to get back on my feet, my knees felt wobbly and for a second there I thought I would fall. But he held me, like he always had and kissed my mouth ferociously. I opened my eyes to look at him, my left hand couldn’t help but caress the side of his face. The ring looked perfect just right there, sitting on my finger, so perfect it made me smile.

Oliver liked his control and I was willing to give it over to him. He wasted no time in flipping us over again so that my back met the countertop once again. He took my chin in between his thumb and his forefinger and with his thumb he pulled on my bottom lip and released it before bringing my face closer and kissing me again. My hands searched for his dick again, he indulged me for a second running one of them up and down, before prying them of off him with a low growl. I didn’t listen, because all I wanted was to touch him, to feel him swelling in my hands if he didn’t let me do it with my mouth. His eyes gave me a warning glare that was deconstructed by his playful smile. I could tell, he was beginning to be fed up with my attempts to finish him before he had his fun. He turned me around, making me rest my forearms on the counter top, holding both my wrists pinned down with one of his hands.

“Be a good boy for me, will you?” he whispered in my ear as his other hand stroked my bum cheek, reaching there from the bottom opening of my loose boxers.

“Ouais.” I nodded, devotedly. He pecked my cheek and let go of my wrists, letting his fingers ghost over the skin of my forearms, apologizing wordlessly in case he handled me a bit too roughly, which he didn’t, but I appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

He slowly took off my boxers, leaving me exposed and at his mercy. I could feel him, swollen, warm and ready between my bum cheeks. Running his hand through my hair, enjoying the view. The hand that was in my hair ran down the back of my neck and my back, making me get goosebumps all over, until it reached my hip that it steadied me by. His other hand gripped the countertop to steady him. I immediately grabbed for his wrist , because I needed to hold him in any way possible, the other hand reached behind me to try and get a hold of his ass, if only barely managing.

His bare foot made mine stand a bit further apart and then he entered. And as always it took a bit of getting used to, a bit of back arching and scoffing until it started feeling comfortable. And as soon as it did Oliver started moving, in and out like his life depended on it. I tried holding him close, but my position didn’t really allow for it. So I was very pleased when he let go of my hip and snaked his hand around my torso, reaching for my chin again, pushing my back into him until I was no longer leaning over the counter, but standing up with my hands propping me up on it, the back of my head resting on Oliver’s shoulder and his mouth all over mine. Just the feel of his huge, warm body sticking to me made me cum without him even touching me, until I was a writhing, moaning mess and he rode me through it, because same as me he couldn’t miss out. My body almost collapsed forward, now thankful that there was a counter to lean on, until he finished, with and animalistic sort of roar somewhere from the back of his throat. He covered my body with his, breathing heavily into the side of my neck, while my hand stroked his back soothingly.

“Bed?” I asked, just above a whisper.

“Bed.” He replied nodding and out of breath.

In bed he laid on his back, with one of his hands under his head and the other one holding my hand turning it this way and that keeping his stare fixed on the thin strip of gold. My stare was fixed on it as well. I still couldn’t believe it, but it filled me with such joy, I could never put it into words.

“How did you think of this?” I asked still staring at the gold reflecting the afternoon sun beautifully.

Oliver’s nose caressed my temple before his lips pressed a light kiss onto it.

“You just pierced mine with such a look these past few days, I felt like it would burst into flames at any moment.” A pause. ”It felt like it was important to you.” He lifted my left hand up to his mouth and kissed my knuckles.

“No, I didn’t.” I said, even though I knew it was a lie and I felt immediately ashamed for saying it. I just didn’t realize he ever noticed, my stolen looks felt private. It wasn’t that I ever wanted a wedding or a marriage, for that matter. I didn’t know if I even did, I had never thought about that stuff before. I knew that I couldn’t have one, obviously, unless I wanted to marry someone who I could never make happy. And maybe that made me a little sad sometimes, because I’ve seen how beautiful it can be, what joy it could bring into your life, I learnt that watching my parents. And sometimes I did feel like I might be missing out, but I didn’t see a point if it would be with someone other than Oliver.

“Yes, you did.” He laughed and messed my hair up.

“You know, it just felt like that ring of yours was laughing at me all the time. Rubbing it in that that is what you exchanged me for.” I confessed and pressed my head firmer into his shoulder.

“I didn’t exchange you for anything or anyone. You very well know that if it was possible I would’ve made you that promise a long time ago.”

“I know.” I said turning onto my stomach and kissed his distress away, which got me excited again. I kissed down his jaw and neck straddling him in the process.

“You sure you’re fine to go again?” Oliver cut me off.

“I’m sure. I’m alright.” I said in between the heated kisses I placed on his chest. I reached behind me for his already semi-hard manhood and gave it a few cautious squeezes to get him at least as ready as I was. I hated letting go but I couldn’t get the oil out of the drawer holding onto him. It was fast and heated and without words Oliver reached in that drawer for me. I kept one of my hands on him and the other one turned palm up so that he could squirt a little bit of the greasy substance into it. He did the same for himself as I switched my hands to prop myself on his chest with the dry one, while the oiled up one started rubbing him up and down as he grabbed me and did the same until we were both moaning, leaking, squirming messes ready for a release. I lifted myself up on my knees and started making my way down his dick, which made my face scrunch in pain as it went over a particularly raw spot.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Perfectly okay.” I let out through gritted teeth. I knew he’d stop the second I told him it hurt, even the faintest of pains would make him break off the contact. But I knew I could get through this and that the pain would dissipate shortly.

And as it did, I started picking up speed, my eyes already rolling to the back of my head, just at the hints of pleasure. We haven’t been at this for too long and I was ready to burst. I reached for myself to intensify everything that I was feeling but Oliver beat me to it and slapped my hand away. It was bold of me to assume that he would let himself be robbed of my pleasure. Soon after I let go, I let the heat bloom in the pit of my stomach and melt its way into every last part of my body, washing over me like when you’re lying in the grass on a summer’s day, barely clothed and the sun hides behind that sole cloud in the sky for a second and then shows itself again. My body tensed and I let the tremors of joy take over for a couple of fleeting seconds. Oliver followed shortly after me. His brows furrowed in concentration, the grip on my hips tightened, teeth gritted and heartbeat quickened. I collapsed forward, hugging him around the neck and letting my head rest in the crook of it, not really minding the mess I’ve left behind. He held me close with one hand and the other one found its way into my hair like it always did, lulling me to sleep as his head rested atop mine. The last thing I wanted now was sleep to take me over. I had to fight it.

“Do you really have to go tomorrow?” I croaked, my voice close to breaking, because just the thought of him not being here tomorrow night, tightened my throat and tried to squeeze the tears out of me.

“I do. But it’s only going to be three weeks. I promise.” He replied, also fighting the weight of sleep.

We laid facing each other, legs tangled under the thin white sheet, drinking in the last hours of our reunion. Oliver’s eyes closed and opened again as I caressed his cheek. Then they closed again.

“Ne dors pas.” I shook him lightly, waking him up.

“Hm?” he hummed in a sleepy haze.

“Ne dors pas.” I repeated louder this time. But he ignored my plea, unintentionally and his eyes closed again as sleep claimed his exhausted body.

“Ne dors pas.” I pleaded again, like a child asking for candy for the thousandth time. This time his eyes opened and he rolled onto his back.

“Ah, you and your French. You know, it always drove me crazy?” He chuckled as his thumb ran across my cheek.

“Figures.” I laughed and propped my head on my hand to get a better look at him. His brows furrowed with an unspoken question.

“You’re American.” I responded, which made him laugh.

Oliver tried and failed to make me go to sleep that night, just like all those years ago. When I was seventeen I wanted to stake my whole life on dreams and be done with the rest. That was when I could only have him in my dreams. Now he’s become my reality and I no longer have to hide in my dreams. But I still wanted to savour every last bit of him before he had to leave. He kissed my lips softly and as he did I couldn’t stop my body from wanting, needing more. I was exhausted and my own body begged for me to just let it rest. But how could I? I needed him again. I needed to memorize the way his body felt inside of me, on top of me and beside me on the mattress, so that I had something to hold onto in these upcoming weeks, when we’ll be forced to spend time apart again.

My feet felt like made of lead when I dragged them across the floor of my flat in the morning to go and take a shower before we left for the airport. I didn’t even need to ask Oliver to join me. And we stood there in the shower letting the water drum on our intertwined bodies, both asking for a bit more time. I was to drive Oliver and Micol to the airport in the early hours of the morning. The sun was long up, so it didn’t even feel like it was too soon. It was only too soon to say goodbye again. I only just got him back in my life and I was forced to say goodbye again. Even if that was only for three weeks. I’ve survived worse. I’ve survived five years that felt like an eternity. But that didn’t make me miss him any less. I wanted all day, every day, by my side from this day to the end of days.

“I’m sorry.” I told Micol as she hugged before they left for their security check.

“No need. Just take good care of him, okay?” she smiled and rubbed my shoulders in a motherly way. “Plus it should be me apologizing. For one, I’m sorry that we didn’t get to know each other amongst other things.”

“I’ll do my best. And hey, you’re always welcome here in Paris. Or my parents’ in Italy. I’m sure Oliver raved about Crema enough for anyone to want to experience it on their own. If you wanted to join us in August, just say the word and I’m sure there’s gonna be a bed ready for you somewhere in the house.” I was sure she’d refuse but to my surprise she replied:

“I’d love that actually, if you two wouldn’t mind. I don’t want to be a burden or ruin your holiday. I’m sure you’d much rather spend it alone with Oliver, you must be sick of me already, always in the way.” I knew what she meant, that this wasn’t just about going to Italy.

“Not at all. Just pack your suitcase and I’ll see you there. _Bon voyage_.” I kissed both her cheeks goodbye.

As I turned to hug Oliver, my heart started beating so fast I thought it was going to give out. It felt like yesterday I said goodbye to him on that train station and then called my mum to come pick me up because my body couldn’t move with the sorrow tying it down, rooting it to the spot. Saying goodbye felt too familiar, too painful. He hugged me tightly to himself. I knew he didn’t want to look too conspicuous in public. But I didn’t mind until I could hold him close.

“Tu vas penser à moi?” _Will you think of me?_ I asked not looking at him, because I knew the sadness in his eyes would be too much for me to handle.

“Every day.” He whispered into my hair. I kept hugging him, a little too long for us to seem like friends to the spying eyes of the public.

“Later.” He said as he pulled away and saluted me with two fingers.

“Later.” I echoed, my eyes already filling with hot tears. I waited until he reached the security line and a while longer until he disappeared into the depths of the airport. I was glued to the spot and kept staring after him. I rubbed the back of my head, looking around not really sure which way I should go or what I should do now. The only thing I could feel was an empty hole in the middle of my chest, expanding the longer he was gone. This time I didn’t have anyone to drive me home, but myself.

My flat felt suddenly so empty and big without him in it. The piano sat quietly in the living room, with its lid closed and the ashtray half full with Oliver’s Gauloises. I opened my bedroom door and for a second there I thought of that time when I was seventeen and when I came back to our room, it was already cleaned and the pillows were already covered with fresh linens. I wanted to scream like a little kid when I found out that I won’t be able to fall asleep with Oliver’s scent filling my nose, when I couldn’t have his arms holding me. But I didn’t. For a second I imagined what it would be like if I opened this door and everything was in order. My heartbeat quickened, my palms started to sweat, but when I opened my bedroom door nothing has changed since this morning. The bed was unmade, the pillow still bore the imprint of where Oliver’s head rested the night before. I laid down and hugged it to me, it didn’t take long before my eyes closed of their own accord and I fell asleep.


End file.
